Black and White
by ARobTheMellow
Summary: Arthur and his team find themselves working together again a year and a half after the Fischer Inception. The Job: Get to Gotham City and successfully extract information that could be vital in helping to save millions of lives. The Catch: The team won't just be up against projections in a dream. They will face real-life thugs and perhaps Gotham's Reckoning himself.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Flashing lights.

Piercing sirens.

Arthur looked up sharply from the wreckage he was standing in. "Cops?"

"Ambulance," Eames responded wearily.

_Relief._

"Good. Flag 'em down. We need to get him out of here before someone sees us."

"Do you think we have enough time," Eames asked. "The building is gonna collapse any second now."

"I think we have time," Arthur said, surveying the damage done to the large foyer they were standing in.

"Yeah, but we don't have much," Ariadne responded, assessing the building with an architect's eye. "The columns that support the ceiling are cracking big time. They aren't going to be able to handle the weight of the rest of the building for much longer."

Yusuf got up from the pile of rubble he was sitting on and ran into the path of the ambulance coming towards them.

The ambulance screeched to a halt and the door was thrown open angrily.

"Hey – you trying to get yourself killed?! What's your problem man?"

Yusuf ran over to the paramedic. "Sorry – but we have someone who really needs your help. He's hurt very badly."

The driver studied Yusuf for a moment before banging on the side of his truck to signal for his coworkers to load up their gear. Anyone who would throw themselves in front of a big, speeding vehicle must be desperate.

"Over there," Yusuf pointed.

Two more paramedics emerged from the truck, gear in tow, and made their way over to where Arthur, Eames and Ariadne were standing.

The driver, identified by the name patch on his uniform as Stefano, froze when he looked behind Arthur.

"Is that -," Stefano stopped talking suddenly.

Eames appeared next to Stefano without warning with a pistol suddenly shoved into his neck.

"Shh… you just load him up quickly and do as we say," Eames instructed in a low voice.

He looked at the other paramedics who had stopped in their tracks at the sight of the Smith and Wesson in Eames' hand.

"The city's in chaos right now. Nobody will miss you. Do as you're told and you won't have to eat a bullet."

"You'll be compensated," Arthur said to alleviate the fear on the men's faces.

"You want us to help this monster," Stefano asked in shock. "_He did this_. We'd be better off letting him die – it would be the right thing to do. Why should we do anything at all?"

Arthur looked at Stefano and pulled out his own pistol. "The consequences would be worse if you didn't help us. Maybe not right this second, but in the long run, it would be worse."

"Not like you'd be around to see it if you don't get a move on," Eames added, painfully digging the gun further into Stefano's neck.

Stefano eyed Arthur's gun. He knew the men weren't bluffing – especially the big one practically on top of him. He would shoot him in a second. He felt every bit like a coward, but he wasn't ready to die just yet. He finally looked at Arthur and nodded his head.

Eames gave Stefano a shove. "Make it fast."

Several minutes later, the paramedics got back into the vehicle with their patient. Yusuf sat up front with Stefano. Arthur, Ariadne and Eames crowded in the back with the other two paramedics.

"Which hospital are we headed to," Stefano asked Arthur loudly. It was hard to hear over the engine of the truck.

"We aren't going to a hospital. He'll show you where to go," Arthur yelled back, referring to Yusuf.

As soon as the vehicle began to move, the paramedics began their work.

"- Look at this guy, what a mess -"

"- IV's in, he's hooked up, checking vitals -"

"- Barely getting a pulse here -"

"- 2 CCs -"

"- Got him intubated-"

"- He's losing blood fast -"

_BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!_

"- WE'RE LOSING HIM – GET THE PADDLES!"

One of the paramedics reached into a small space under where Arthur was sitting and pulled out a defibrillator while the other one removed the remainder of the clothing on the man's torso.

"- Set to 200 joules -"

None of the team members could describe the sound of a defibrillator being made ready to use, but they would never forget it or mistake it for any other sound.

"CLEAR!"

_THUMP._

"CLEAR!"

_THUMP._

"CLEAR!"

_THUMP._

"Ok – set to 260 – CLEAR!"

_THUMP._

"CLEAR!"

_THUMP._

"SET TO 320."

"NO - THAT'S TOO HIGH, TOO FAST – _WE CAN'T DO THAT_ -"

"- _YOU SEE ANY OTHER OPTIONS_? He can take it – trust me."

The team watched, captivated, as the paramedics tried to bring the man on the gurney back to life.

"Arthur I still don't understand why we're bothering to save him at all," Eames said. "He said he didn't want to help us. He didn't want to live. Not after her."

"That's not true," Arthur countered, not taking his eyes off the scene in front of him. "He wanted to help. He truly wanted to help us. He just felt like he couldn't. Maybe if he survives this, he'll think of this as a second chance to make the right choice."

"And who gave you permission to decide who gets to live and die," Eames challenged. "Who gave you the right to decide that for him?"

Arthur finally turned and looked at Eames. "If that was you on the gurney, wouldn't you want someone to fight for your life? You can't tell me that if you had a chance to do things over again, you wouldn't take it. I know you're about being a free man, nothing to tie you down, but even you have regrets."

"CLEAR!"

_THUMP._

_BEEP BEEP, BEEP BEEP, BEEP BEEP, BEEP BEEP…_

The paramedic with the paddles looked up at the team. There was guilt written all over his face.

"He's in very critical condition, but he's here for now. Wherever we're going, we need to get there fast."

_BEEP BEEP, BEEP BEEP, BEEP BEEP, BEEP BEEP…_

"He should have died instantly. His will to live is… strong. Very strong."


	2. The Company Man

Ch. 1

_**Khao Hom Restaurant, Bangkok, Thailand**_

Something was wrong. Arthur could feel it.

He was sure it wasn't the Chow job in Hong Kong. That went well. Arthur's phone rang, drawing him briefly out of his thoughts until he heard what was on the other end.

"Mr. Lin thanks you for your outstanding work. Your payment will be wired to you at midnight."

The line went dead with a click.

So it definitely wasn't the Chow job. But something still wasn't right. The only question was what.

Having nothing better to do – and wanting to avoid Soi Cowboy and its seedy bars at all costs – he settled for a late dinner in a decent part of Bangkok to pass the time – and take his mind off the uneasy feeling for awhile.

He didn't have long to wait. Within minutes of ordering, an older woman arrived at his table carrying a steaming bowl of curry and white rice. As he ate, Arthur kept an eye on his surroundings. There didn't seem to be anything strange, but one could never be too careful after a job.

People of all different nationalities and ethnicities mingled in the hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The place was dingy and the food was cheap, but Arthur preferred it that way. He was a man with expensive taste and usually chose to eat in elegant five star restaurants but nobody would ever think to look for him in a place like Khao Hom.

After a minute of surveying his surroundings, Arthur's eyes landed on a man at the next table, also dining alone.

He looked like the average tourist or expatriate milling around Thailand, but he seemed out of place in the relaxed environment. He was blond and had a scruffy beard that covered a strong chin.

Despite the symmetry of his features, the man couldn't be called handsome in the conventional sense. He had an interesting face nonetheless, with strong, masculine features which possessed a ruggedness only undermined by the elegant way he carried himself.

'_He's trying too hard to blend in.'_

He supposed the man could get away with presenting himself in whatever light he chose. He fit the tourist profile and nobody was really paying attention. But Arthur knew better.

The man was wearing a simple green shirt with a few holes in it, khaki shorts, worn out sandals and a pair of sunglasses.

Arthur also knew quality when he saw it, and the black plastic wayfarers that hung from the collar of the man's shirt were well crafted. Expensive.

The holes in the shirt were too clean. Too symmetrical.

His beard could have used a trim, but his hair was maintained well. His attire might have been lacking, but it could not conceal the truth.

The man was loaded.

There was something else though… Arthur concentrated hard on the man.

'_What is it about this guy…?'_

His watch was interesting. It was a black and yellow watch with the Batman logo on the face.

'_The watch…'_

The puzzle pieces suddenly clicked into place.

_**Hong Kong International Airport, three days earlier**_

_Arthur had just gotten off his plane and was on his way to meet his new employer, Lin Li Wei, when he ran into someone._

'_Oof!'_

'_I'm so sorry,' Arthur dropped his luggage and helped the man to his feet. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –'_

'_It's ok,' the man replied with a smile while straightening his clothes out. 'No harm done.'_

_Arthur noticed the Batman watch on the man's left wrist. 'I like your watch. You're a fan of the Caped Crusader?'_

'_I am,' the man said, beaming. 'I've had this watch for years – my parents gave it to me. Anyway, I should be going. Thanks for helping me up. Have a nice day.'_

_Arthur picked his belongings up off the floor and continued on. He had to be in Kowloon in less than an hour._

_**Present day**_

Arthur realized that he never got a good look at the man's face, so the watch was the only consistent factor. How many people could Arthur run into in the span of several days with the same cheap watch?

'_Maybe it was just a coincidence,' _Arthur reasoned. But no… he _had_ seen him more than once. In the corner of his eye, in the background. He mentally went through a list of some of the public places he had been to in both Hong Kong and Bangkok.

The airport.

The tea house.

The bank.

'_You're slipping,'_ he thought to himself. For a moment he considered disappearing out the back. _'He'd only find me again though. Better just deal with him now and be done with it.'_

Arthur immediately stopped eating and flagged one of the workers down.

"Kotort khap, hong naam yuu tee nai?"

The man pointed to the back of the restaurant. Arthur got up from his table and walked to the men's restroom.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and pulled his Glock 17 out of its holder. He turned around to see a young Thai man at the sink, staring at him.

"Get out," Arthur commanded. He got no reaction. Either the man was too scared to move or he didn't understand English.

'_I'll let the gun do the talking for me,'_ Arthur decided. He was running short on time and needed the man gone quickly.

"Org pai," he repeated in Thai, gesturing to the door with the gun. "Pai!"

The young man's eyes widened at the sight of his weapon. He edged past Arthur and sped out of the bathroom. Arthur took a look at his reflection in the mirror and decided at the last second to put his gun away.

No need to draw extra attention. He only had to wait a few minutes before the man walked into the deserted restroom.

Right on cue, the man stepped into the bathroom. He realized very quickly that Arthur was waiting for him.

"Hello," the man said warily.

"Small world," Arthur responded bluntly.

The man looked at Arthur in the mirror, confusion etched in his face. "I'm sorry?"

"You've been following me. Why?"

"I… believe you have the wrong person."

Arthur chuckled. He wasn't up for games, so he just cut to the chase. "You should try wearing a different watch."

The man's eyes darted down nervously toward his watch and then back up at Arthur. He knew the jig was up.

"I never liked flashy things," he admitted in a weary tone, shoulders drooping slightly. "I wear it more for sentiment than anything else. You remember that my parents gave this to me."

"I do," Arthur confirmed.

"May I join you for dinner," the man asked suddenly.

"I prefer to eat alone," Arthur answered, turning for the door. "Go home and don't let me see you again," he added, the warning very clear in his tone.

"Arthur…"

He stopped and turned.

"You know my name," Arthur said flatly.

"I've been following you since Seoul. Please, I need to talk to you. It's important."

Arthur inspected the man closer. He looked very tired. For a moment Arthur felt sorry for him. He wasn't easy to track down.

Speaking of which…

'_How __**did**__ he find me,' _he wondered suddenly.

Arthur sighed heavily. "Alright. Come on." The man seemed relatively harmless. Still, if anything went wrong, he had his weapon ready and had no qualms about shooting him.

The men made their way back up to the dining area and put their meals at one table. Arthur waited patiently while the man took a quick phone call.

The man was American, Arthur deduced, but he had traces of a Russian accent.

"_Self-made money maybe_," he thought while taking a sip of the cold tea in front of him.

Arthur noted that when the man went to open his wallet to retrieve a card with a phone number on it, there was very little cash in there. Small denominations, totaling at most 1470 Baht – about 45 USD.

Most wealthy tourists survived on credit cards. The Visa or MasterCard could very well have doubled as a second passport. Those cards opened doors, and a lot of them.

The man was confident without a doubt, but he wasn't arrogant. He seemed to know the value of a dollar. He knew hard work. Regardless, he was wealthy, and there was only reason a man like him would seek Arthur out.

"Before you go any further, I want to know who you are," Arthur said once the man was off his phone.

"Smart and straight to the point. Your reputation is well deserved. My name is Alexander. Alexander Ivanov."

Arthur smiled and raised both eyebrows at Ivanov in surprise. "Not _the_ Alexander Ivanov? The CEO of Wick Industries in Chicago?"

"The same."

"I take it you're in town on business." Arthur was stalling. He knew full well what Ivanov wanted, but he hoped he was wrong anyway.

"I need your help."

"You'll have to be more specific," Arthur said. "Usually when people ask for my 'help' it involves something dangerous."

"It _is_ a dangerous job, I won't deny it," Ivanov conceded, "but my need is dire. I need an extractor."

"Mr. Ivanov… I specialize in details, the inner workings of an operation. I do the research; take care of the particulars. Not extraction itself." Arthur explained. "You'll have to find someone else."

Ivanov was suddenly sweating. He rubbed his eyes which were dark and shadowed. The man looked haunted. He leaned forward towards Arthur, undeterred by his response.

"Look, I know your former extractor is retired," he said in a rushed whisper. "I also know that you have been well trained to extract. Please. I have a serious crisis on my hands and I think you're the only one I can go to."

'_Someone's done their homework_,' Arthur thought to himself.

"Who referred you?"

"An associate of mine, in Tokyo."

"Saito," Arthur stated while thinking back on the mess that was the Fischer Job. "You worked for Proclus Global?"

Ivanov smiled tightly and sat back in his chair. "Yes."

Arthur studied the man in front of him before speaking. "Mr. Ivanov. In this business, people don't just talk freely. You're sure it was Saito who referred you?"

"Yes, it was him. I know you two had an understanding -,"

"– An understanding? No. No, no, we had a written, _legally binding_ contract that included breach of confidentiality," Arthur interrupted. "I'm gonna have to go and find him now..." He began to stand up.

"A legally binding contract for an illegal practice," Ivanov asked shrewdly.

"Extraction is not illegal," Arthur replied.

"It's not," Ivanov agreed, "If you're doing it under a government program and by their guidelines. Extracting for the private sector, however, _is_ illegal. If it's being used to gather information about a client's competition – which is usually why people hire extractors these days - then it is considered industrial espionage, which is also illegal. The US has laws against it. I'm sure most developed countries have similar ones."

Arthur had no reply. The man knew what he was talking about. He watched Ivanov closely.

"Saito gave me your information because he said that you and Mr. Cobb were the best at what you do. Maybe he shouldn't have. But he felt that my problem was serious enough to break the rules for. I really need your help. Hear me out."

Arthur sighed and shook his head, but felt his resolve crumbling. Saito was a man of his word – he proved that with Cobb. Arthur trusted his judgment.

'_So much for a vacation,' _he thought in resignation, sitting back down.

"You get five minutes. Start talking."

* * *

_**Ecole d'Architecture**__**, Paris, France**_

Ariadne was in a lecture hall packing up to go home after yet another day on autopilot.

She went to school, elaborated on the theories Monsieur Bontecou droned on and on about, graded papers, and after school let out, went back to her small, but rather luxurious flat that sat a mere ten minutes away from the Arc de Triomphe and overlooked the business district of Paris, La Défense, far in the background.

At night, the glittering lights from the skyscrapers of La Défense, combined with the romantic atmosphere of the park right below the flat, made for a breathtaking view. It was a place many people would pay through the nose for.

It took Ariadne a long time to really notice the great view she had. For nearly a year, Ariadne thought of nothing else but inception. Nothing else mattered.

She often thought about the Fischer Job and her 'co-workers.' The first six months away from them had been the hardest; the most empty. She constantly replayed the last moment she and the rest of the team were together.

_**Los Angeles International Airport, a year and a half ago**_

'_Ariadne. Ariadne – listen to me, __**look at me**__ \- by the time you get to Paris, the money will be wired to your account. I'll take care of the authorities. Now get going before they see us.'_

_Ariadne couldn't think straight. Cobb was home free, but what about the rest of them? Eames said it would only be minutes before the police – no, he had said they were Interpol agents - caught on to them. _

_Were those sirens? God, yes. Definitely sirens. Getting louder. _

_In the back of Ariadne's mind she thought it was absurd to have sirens on police cars going off. If you were going to catch a criminal, you had to be stealthy about it._

_Was she a criminal? No time to think about that now._

'_Arthur, I don't know my way around!'_

'_Just keep moving Ariadne – don't stop. Forget all of this – it was a one- time thing. I'll make sure nobody follows you. Go.'_

_She saw a few suits casually strolling her way. Arthur and the rest of the team disappeared, leaving her in a strange city all alone, afraid she would be arrested at any moment. _

_Scared. She was scared and alone. What was she supposed to do now?_

_Keep moving. Right._

_She had to keep moving._

_She stayed on the move for awhile, hopping from one town to another, using plane, train, boat, and bus to keep moving. When Ariadne finally got back to Paris, she stayed holed up in her flat for several weeks. She was terrified that Interpol or some other agency would find her and make her disappear. _

_**Present day, Paris, France**_

She didn't like to think of that moment, but she couldn't stop herself from doing it anyway.

Ariadne missed watching Arthur and Eames snip at each other throughout the day.

She missed her little talks with Yusuf, and she even missed Cobb, although she couldn't say that he felt the same about all of them. She missed them all terribly.

The thing she missed most was being on the field. The ability to go into dreams and create was like nothing else for her. Waking up every day and learning how to create in that abandoned warehouse became her life. It became a part of her.

Most architects never went into the field, but if she hadn't gone in, the team would have failed the mission.

It was like what she had told Cobb before, the deeper they went into Fischer, the deeper they went into Cobb. He was calm and collected on the outside – most of the time – and a complete mess on the inside.

Arthur once said that the real Mallorie Cobb had been a lovely person.

Ariadne had a difficult time imagining that. The projection scared her beyond belief.

By the time she got a chance to interact with Mal, the guilt Cobb carried twisted her into something horrendous.

Had Cobb told a psychiatrist of the things that happened, he might have been prescribed medication and years of therapy on a couch maybe, to combat the effects of what happened between him and his wife.

Ariadne thought it would be counter-productive to try medications to help 'cure' Cobb. The medications would have just sedated Cobb and sent him right back into Mal's arms.

Cobb working in the subconscious was the equivalent of a severe alcoholic working in a brewery. He couldn't escape her. She was everywhere.

Towards the end, Mal had gotten so out of control that Ariadne was afraid that Cobb would become completely unhinged.

The team barely got through the job. At the time, she wasn't sure Cobb and Saito would even make it out of limbo - it was a long shot.

Still, the Fischer job turned out to be a good thing for Cobb. It forced him to look at the hard truth he tried to forget and accept what happened. It healed a part of him and reunited him with his children in the end.

The way she thought changed after the job. She became more creative and was able to think on her feet and react quickly. These new and improved traits gave her an edge over the other candidates – despite her GPA - and eventually got her the job of teacher's assistant for the faculty of architecture.

Unfortunately, she often caught herself daydreaming more than ever. She felt out of touch with reality.

Ariadne barely passed her classes after the Fischer job. She graduated a semester later than she intended to and didn't want to do anything after graduation. She honestly only went for the teacher's assistant position that was posted because Professor Miles urged her to.

He wanted her to do something – _anything_ – that would get her out of her flat. Ariadne knew that she should continue her education, but she couldn't bring herself to make the effort.

It was only in the recent months that Ariadne could finally refocus on her life. She had come to terms that she would probably never get to do anything as spectacular as inception again, and at long last, she had made peace with that.

It had been a year and a half since the Fischer job.

Two months ago she had her first natural dream since the inception.

A month ago, she left her totem on the nightstand next to her bed.

Two weeks ago, she sat on the balcony outside her living room and had a cup of coffee. She soaked in the sights and smells of Paris and felt the first tendrils of contentment make its way inside of her.

It was the first time she felt normal in a long time. She was finally able to pick up the pieces of her life and move on.

Her progress had been rather slow, but it was progress nonetheless.

Gathering the rest of her things, Ariadne bent down to retrieve her bag when she heard a noise behind her. She froze when she saw a tall man standing by the entrance, impeccably dressed in a three piece suit with slicked back brown hair and dark eyes.

Arthur.

Ariadne suddenly wished she had her bishop with her; she needed a reality check. She longed to feel the familiar brass dips and grooves.

She slowly straightened back up, bag forgotten.

"What are you doing here," she asked him quietly. She didn't have it in her to pretend to be happy to see him.

"I was just passing through. I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd stop in to see how you were," Arthur responded smoothly.

Ariadne observed Arthur through shuttered eyes. "You know I don't like lies. You said we wouldn't have contact again. I'll ask you one more time." Her voice shook. "Why are you in Paris?"

Arthur felt ashamed suddenly. Resorting to lies was not something he did, despite the nature of his job. Why he was doing it now, he didn't know. He sighed deeply before answering her question.

"I came to offer you a job."

Ariadne scoffed. She didn't answer him for a long time, but when she did, her voice was quiet again.

"Sixteen months. It took me sixteen months to dream again."

"I know."

"It's been a year and a half. I haven't had contact with anyone. Not Cobb, not Eames, nobody. You told me to 'just forget.' You left me at LAX and told me to fend for myself."

"I know."

"Do you any idea the hell I've been through just to pull myself up to a level where I could function again?"

"I know," he repeated sadly. "I honestly didn't want to drag you back into this again. But, you're the best architect I know of. I have a job I have to assemble the team for. I wouldn't ask it of you if it wasn't so important."

"I think it's funny how you think you can just come back into my life and start talking about more work. What makes this one more important than your other assignments? One corporation trying to take over another is hardly life threatening."

Arthur took another step closer to Ariadne. She didn't move away from him, but he didn't miss her left hand – her totem hand – twitching ever so slightly.

"This is different. It has nothing to do with the usual. No company takeovers, no corporate espionage. This is worse."

Ariadne looked up at Arthur questioningly. The tone of his voice drained the remainder of her anger and piqued her interest, as much as she hated to admit it. He sounded extremely _worried_. This was very unlike Arthur.

Arthur picked up on what Ariadne was asking with her eyes. He shook his head. "I can't talk about it right this second. Will you help me? Can I at least talk to you about it later?"

Ariadne stood still for nearly a full minute before deciding that she would help him. She made a promise to herself to stay attached to the real world. This would not become her life again. Ariadne would not go through losing a grip on reality a second time.

"What kind of job," she finally asked.

"Extraction." Arthur said. "I know," he said, interrupting the questions he knew were coming, "you've never done extraction. But it won't be a problem, I can teach you. After learning inception, it'll probably seem like child's play."

"Does this 'job' involve getting shot at?"

"Maybe. But I can't discuss the details until I have everyone else in."

Ariadne hesitated.

"Please Ariadne, I need your help."

"Consider this a personal favor," she said a moment. "But, no more after this. I'm serious."

"Thank you," Arthur said with a small sad smile. "I have to assemble the rest of the team, but I'll contact you with the details."

Ariadne nodded and looked on as he turned to walk away. Arthur stopped suddenly and turned around.

"It was good to see you again. See you soon," he said softly before forcing himself to walk away.

* * *

_**Digo Beach Casino, Mombasa, Kenya**_

Eames studied the note he had been slipped from an attendant passing by the blackjack table where he was sitting and losing miserably.

_Yusuf's lab - 17:00. _

'_Arthur, no doubt,' _he thought wryly. _'He's brave for coming here. Better see what he's up to.' _

After the Fischer job, Eames had traveled for awhile alone. Kaohsiung, Incheon, Amsterdam, Budapest, Perth – after awhile, the places he visited blurred together.

There was nothing to hold him there; nothing meaningful for him. Kenya was his home, and so he returned to Mombasa.

He didn't really have any family, and people in his line of work didn't have friends. Merely associates. And he was never one to spend personal time with work colleagues. It got complicated, and if there was one thing Eames hated, it was complications.

He'd had several other jobs since then, all of them cake, compared to the inception, but for the most part, Eames had been lying low.

The money Saito had paid went a long way. Eames remembered the kid from France – Ariadne – he remembered her concerns with receiving the amount of money Saito had paid them. He also remembered the advice he had given her.

'_Look, don't worry about it, little girl – alright, fine, young woman, whatever. When you rack up some time in the extraction business, you'll get the hang of how to deal with that amount of money. And when you do, you won't have to worry about daft things like the police or federal prison… you'll learn how to hide it well. Don't worry yourself about that. Just deny, deny, deny…'_

God, he really _was_ a horrible influence on the newbies, now that he thought about it.

Eames was not a material man, despite his best efforts to be one. Oh, he liked decadence; he liked having fine things, but who didn't? In the end though, they were just things.

He didn't know it, but what Eames really craved was meaningful human connections. Thugs and cheap women didn't exactly fit the definition of the word 'meaningful.'

He was surprised to learn that he actually _liked _his associates from the Fischer job. There weren't too many people that Eames liked; he could barely tolerate most, at best.

'_Speaking of associates…,'_ Eames looked down at his watch. '_16:45…Time to go.'_

He got up from his place, cashed in the rest of his shiny counterfeit chips and began to walk towards the exit.


	3. The Grind

Ch. 2

Eames had nearly reached the door of the casino when he spotted a familiar face by the door: tailored clothes, spotless shoes, sleek, dark hair, and a permanent look of mixed stoicism and disdain.

Eames discretely made his way to the wall where Arthur was leaning. He reclined against the wall.

"Fancy seeing you here," Eames said, smirking. "What happened to the lab?"

"The plan hasn't changed." Arthur glanced down at his watch. "But Yusuf's not expecting us until 1700." He clapped a firm hand on his back, smiling broadly. "It's been awhile, Eames. Let's unwind for a little bit. Relax. You want a drink?"

"Alright, Arthur, what's going on in that funny little head of yours," Eames asked, allowing himself to be herded back to the bar. "You don't relax. You might dislodge the stick up your arse."

Arthur said nothing as they sat on the plush red barstools in front of them.

"Don't tell me you were foolish enough to attract some attention?"

"Not so far," Arthur answered, keeping his voice low. "Although, I could be wrong…"

"What're you on about?"

"Behind you."

Eames glanced in the mirror behind the bar and spotted a young African woman eyeing them from a dark corner. The woman was about 5'5, and shapely.

She was wearing a white button down shirt, khaki slacks with a thin belt around her waist, blue shoes with white laces and soles, and a pair of glasses with a dark brown, rectangular frame on her face.

She certainly didn't look like the rest of the casino girls to Eames. Too plain.

"Looks like COBAL's started hiring locals," Arthur asked, his voice deceptively mild.

"Maybe," Eames replied. He turned to Arthur. "We should leave."

"Too late. We leave now, we'll give ourselves away."

"She could sound the alarm any second Arthur – I'm surprised she hasn't already done it."

"I'm telling you, just play it cool, Eames, I've got it under control -,"

"Under control," Eames interrupted with a whisper. "We've been sitting here for five minutes with this girl watching us -,"

Arthur suddenly brandished his gun and pointed it behind Eames.

Eames whipped his head around to find the young woman standing right behind him.

"Do you always point your weapon when a woman tries to speak to you," she asked Arthur softly, revealing a husky - but still very feminine - voice.

"Explains why he can't keep a girl around," Eames quipped, not missing a beat. "Nothing personal, darling – does this with everyone."

"I understand," the woman replied with a small smile. "Yusuf said this might happen. He said you might mistake me for one of COBAL's people."

Eames' body visibly relaxed.

Arthur's face flushed in embarrassment as he lowered his weapon at the mention of Yusuf. "I can't afford to be friendly. I'm in the lion's den here. You'd be cautious too, if you were in my shoes."

"Wrong," Eames said. "If I were in your shoes I wouldn't be obtuse enough to step foot in Mombasa at all."

Arthur shook his head and turned his attention back to the woman behind them. "Who are you," he asked, regaining his composure.

"My name is Nadira. I'm Yusuf's lab assistant," she said.

"Where's he then? I don't see him," Eames said, looking around for the chemist.

"He didn't want to meet in public," Nadira said, looking at Arthur. "After you called, telling him you were gonna stop in, Yusuf took the liberty of finding Mr. Eames."

"He could have told me _before_ I got here." Arthur tried to keep the irritation out of his voice and failed.

"You need more variety in your places of leisure." Nadira said to Eames with a teasing grin.

"Perhaps I should, but you know, there are so few places with decent drink around here," Eames said. "When you find one, you've got to treasure it."

"He also learned that the casino is one of the places on COBAL's watch list." Nadira added, glancing at Arthur. She nodded to the pool tables where Eames and Arthur spotted several men in suits through the haze of cigarettes and dim lighting.

"I think that's our cue to leave," Arthur said, looking around the room.

"Well, wait a minute," Eames said, looking at Arthur. "How are we supposed to get out of here?"

"We could sneak out one of the windows, maybe back by the bathrooms," Nadira suggested. "It leads out to the side street."

"Sweetheart, I don't like the idea of sneaking through a window like some commonplace thief," Eames said, shaking his head. "Let's go out the back."

"How is going out the back any better," Nadira asked. "That's a classic rookie move. We'd probably just get caught faster going that way."

"Follow me," Arthur said, ignoring the both of them. "We're gonna do this the easy way."

"And how's that," Eames asked as he got up from his stool.

"We're walking out the front door."

The trio left the bar and walked out the front door with no incident. For a few minutes, the three of them remained cautious as they moved amongst the locals. So far, there were no COBAL agents in sight.

They relaxed as they walked down the street in silence, the only sounds coming from the locals all around them.

Eames rarely smoked outside of a casino, but he felt as though he could use a hit from the pack of Dunhills he carried in his pocket. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, enjoying the taste of the tobacco on his tongue.

They rounded a corner, only to run into more of COBAL's men.

"Hey – there he is!"

The men spotted Arthur, Eames and Nadira and ran at them, pulling out their weapons. Eames cursed, throwing his cigarette on the ground.

"So much for that plan," Arthur said as he began to move, tugging both Eames and Nadira along with him.

"Arthur, you know how these blokes are," Eames said, after the three of them had ducked around a car. "We're gonna have to split up and meet at Yusuf's lab."

"Ok, let's do that," Arthur agreed, breathlessly. "Give it maybe twenty minutes, get them off your backs, and get to Yusuf's lab in one piece."

Arthur, Eames, and Nadira agreed and took off running in three different directions.

Arthur ran through several alleyways without being seen. After maybe ten minutes, he slowed down and eventually stopped to catch his breath. Maybe luck was on his side.

Arthur looked up from the ground as something appeared out of the corner of his eye. There were two men in suits that saw him at the same time he saw them. So maybe luck wasn't with him after all.

Arthur didn't have to guess who the two men were, or who they worked for. He wondered what made him think for even five seconds that he could walk through Mombasa without being disturbed.

'_I should've just made Eames and Yusuf find me instead.' _

Now he would have to deal with COBAL Engineering, but he knew this day was coming. They would have found him one way or another.

Arthur walked down the dusty alleyway and quickly turned a corner. He bolted from there, and ran down another street crowded with mostly mahogany faces. Arthur heard the men approaching and ducked behind a passing truck, walking alongside it.

The men didn't see him and kept going in the opposite direction. After a moment, Arthur felt safe to step out again. He let go of the rusty Toyota and turned another corner just to bump into a man with a charcoal suit and a ponytail.

It only took the two men a split second to recognize one another – one was a fugitive, the other a COBAL agent.

Arthur reached down to his hip holster to discover that his Glock was gone. He had no idea what happened to it.

'_Great. No weapon.'_

He backed up as the tall and muscular man flicked open a spring-loaded switchblade. They circled each another before he lunged at Arthur with the knife and swiped at him several times.

Arthur dodged him for several moments, crashing into a stall behind him, trying not to get sliced open.

He quickly tired of the man and took care of him the best way he knew how. Arthur reached blindly behind him and grabbed the first thing that reached his hand: a bag of onions.

He then slung the heavy bag at the man's face. The man's head snapped back, trying to avoid the flying onions and Arthur took the opportunity to finish him.

He strode over, grabbed the man by his tie, and swiftly delivered a punch to the face which sent him sprawling into another stall selling fruit. Arthur heard a loud crunch from the man's face.

The man lay on the ground unconscious with oranges and mangoes all around him, while being accosted by the locals upset about their ruined merchandise.

Arthur looked up over the crowd and was spotted by yet another agent. The second man, who was just as tall as the first but twice as wide, ran at him and actually got his meaty hands around Arthur's neck before he could tuck his chin, using brute strength to push him into another stall that sold fish.

Arthur's hands circled the wide wrists attached to the hands that were slowly choking him to death. He tried to pry the man's hands off but the man didn't budge.

His eyes rolled around desperately and he saw nearby, an aluminum skillet with a fish frying in it. The owner of the skillet ran to safety, leaving it unattended. Arthur couldn't shove the man's bulk off of his much smaller frame and began to panic.

He couldn't breathe and his vision was beginning to go cloudy and black around the edges.

Arthur could hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. There was a terrible pressure building in his head.

He knew he would have to twist his body to be able to reach that skillet. He tried again to buck the man off of him. Arthur tried once, twice, and a third time but to no avail.

The man was massive and had a good grip on his throat. He wasn't going anywhere. His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. Arthur eyed the skillet again and realized that he would just have to try without being able to move.

By this time, he had already gone almost a minute with no oxygen and his windpipe being painfully closed. He was getting very weak. Time was running out for him.

He took his hands off the other man's wrists and used the remaining strength he had left to push his body up against the man on top of him while blindly reaching up.

His hands found the skillet. He grabbed the metal handle and pulled. The hot oil and the fish went flying over Arthur's head and landed right on Meaty Hands' face. Some of the oil splashed on Arthur's hands, but he didn't even notice.

Arthur felt the release of pressure from his throat at the same time the man began to scream. He rolled to the ground, violently coughing and gagging.

He saw a combination of stars and black dots. Arthur sucked in several deep breaths of air, willing himself to slow his breathing down so he didn't pass out.

"I really shouldn't have come here," Arthur said breathlessly while staggering to his feet. His throat hurt like never before and he was sure he would have bruises there.

His body ached, his lungs were on fire, his hands were burned, and his new suit was now ruined. Arthur could hear the pounding footsteps of more COBAL agents coming towards him.

He looked in the opposite direction to see another group of men also running towards him. He knew he couldn't fight them all off. He had to figure something out.

Luckily none of them had spotted him yet. Arthur moved down the road away from both groups. He ducked into an alleyway and hid behind a large container of trash. The men ran past without seeing him and Arthur made his escape up the street.

There was a large grate on the side of the road. Arthur sprinted up to it after untangling himself from the crowd of men that were with him and grabbed the bars. He could hear rushing water and figured that the water would drain out into the ocean.

He hated the thought of having to jump in a rushing torrent of sewer water. And he wasn't sure where the water let out. It most likely would go out to sea, but it wasn't a complete certainty.

'_But if you don't do this, you can forget the job - they'll be using your body for target practice.' _

Arthur looked around. So far, so good – none of the men were around and nobody else was even paying attention.

Arthur was in the process of squeezing himself in between the bars of the drain when he felt someone yank him back none too gently by his collar. He turned and saw Eames and Nadira behind him, both looking roughed up.

Eames hair was mussed, his beige blazer was ripped and the knuckles on his right hand were scraped raw and were bleeding. Nadira's clothes were dirty and she had the faint shadow of a bruise on her cheekbone.

"Come on this way," Eames said. "They're coming towards the drains now."

Arthur ran with them and hid in another alleyway, some distance from the drain. Eames was right. Within moments, the men came, looked around and ran off after not being able to locate Arthur.

"We're safe for now," Nadira said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Let's go."

* * *

The chemist looked up from his paperwork to see three familiar faces looking back at him. He smiled and got up from his desk.

"Well, what have we here? Arthur, Mr. Eames… it's been awhile. You all look…," Yusuf paused a moment, taking in their dusty and disheveled appearance. "…travel worn."

He raised his eyebrows at the vicious red and purple handprints around Arthur's neck but didn't ask questions.

"Since when do you send out someone else to do your work for you," Arthur asked hoarsely. "You got something for this?" He held up his burnt hands.

Yusuf shrugged, digging some burn ointment out of his first aid kit and handing it to Arthur.

"After I got back from Los Angeles, I figured it would be good to have someone help me with the compounds as well as the sleep lab down below. Business has been good. But, what can I do for you," Yusuf asked.

"I'm on a job. Extraction. You interested," Arthur asked, getting straight to business.

He handed the ointment back to Yusuf after smearing it on his hands and sat down heavily in a chair near Yusuf's desk. He felt better but was still a little shaky from being nearly strangled to death.

"I might be." Yusuf stood up and walked over to a plastic lined shelf filled with bottle after bottle of fluorescent colored chemicals, looking through them. "How long do I have to prepare?"

"I leave for Paris in three days, you and Eames are going on ahead to the final stop," Arthur stated.

Yusuf looked back at Arthur and Eames. "Surely it won't be just the three of us? Who's your other team member?"

"Ariadne."

"I see," Yusuf replied. "Right. Do you know exactly what we're dealing with?"

"I can't tell you while we're here in Mombasa. The employer just wanted me to get everyone together quickly."

"Where is our final stop," Yusuf asked.

"Tangier," Arthur said.

"Morocco…" Eames looked out the window, deep in thought. "Whoever hired us is very smart."

"Why's that?"

"Tangier is known for its criminal activity. It would be difficult to trace anyone there. But I don't believe any of us know Moroccan Arabic… Do you Yusuf?"

"A little, but it's pretty bad," Yusuf replied.

"The employer picked the location, not me. Besides, between you two, me, and Ariadne, we speak _a _lot of different languages. And we can _all _speak French," Arthur pointed out. "Problem solved."

"I'll bring some extra supplies along," Yusuf stated.

"How do you propose to bring sedatives and other such chemicals on a plane and over borders," Eames asked, while leafing through papers on Yusuf's desk.

"Never mind that, Mr. Eames. I have my ways."

"Bring a lot of extras, Yusuf. We need to be prepared. You're gonna meet us at Port Reitz, be there at 22:00 hours. The employer is sending me by one of his planes. You're gonna fly business for this one," Arthur instructed.

"And I was so hoping for first class," Eames lamented with a sigh before turning back towards the door. "Oh well, it's still better than coach."

"Before you go," Yusuf said as the men were leaving, "I was wondering, can we bring Nadira to work with us?"

Arthur's answer was swift and blunt. "No. We have enough team members as it is. This is dangerous work."

"Arthur, she just helped to get you here safely. She can hold her own. And she is a doctorate student from Pretoria. She has been working for The Rhodes Corporation for three years now. She is a valuable asset to me. "

"Not to mention, I've already overheard most of your plan," Nadira added. "Makes me a bit of a loose end if I don't come along, doesn't it?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows at that information. The Rhodes Corporation was one of the best sleep centers in the world. They had a heavy hand in the pioneering of extraction.

And she _did_ help save him.

Arthur looked at Nadira while weighing his options. Technically he didn't need her. Yusuf could man the PASIV. But he was also needed in the field for the last job. Arthur might need him on the field again. And she had a point. COBAL knew who she was. They knew she knew him.

Nadira knew too much.

"Fine, you can come along," he said reluctantly. "But you do as I say. One slip up and you're finished. Understood?"

"Understood," Nadira answered, trying to hide her excitement. She always wanted to go into the field. Now was her chance.

"Ok," Arthur said. "It's settled then. Nadira, I'll have a ticket ready for you. Yusuf, don't forget – 10 PM."

"Good day, gentlemen," Yusuf said nodding his head at the men before returning his attention back to the surface of his work table.

Arthur and Eames stepped back out onto the crowded street and looked at each other.

"Feels like old times again, doesn't it old man?" Eames asked jovially.

"Unfortunately."

"Let's hope nothing goes wrong this time," Eames said.

"Yeah, yeah…just don't be late," Arthur replied, waving his hand dismissively as he made to go back to his hotel.

Eames just shook his head as he watched the point man leave.

"_Still a stick in the mud… Some things never change," _the forger thought with a smile before turning and disappearing in the crowd.

* * *

_**Tangier, Morocco**_

A warm breeze drifted in from the Mediterranean, carrying the smell of salt. Ariadne leaned over the stone.

"I could get used to this," Ariadne said aloud, breathing in deep and enjoying the feel of the sun on her fair skin.

"I think get I'd bored after a while," Eames said, making Ariadne jump. She didn't hear him walk up to her.

"Eames. When did you get here," Ariadne asked.

"We've been here. Yusuf, Nadira and I have been waiting on you and Arthur to get here."

"Well I'm here now," Arthur said coming out onto the balcony with Ivanov, Nadira and Yusuf. "Ariadne, meet Nadira, Yusuf's assistant. She's gonna be helping us with the PASIV."

"And, before I forget, everyone, this is Alexander Ivanov, our new employer."

The rest of the team shook hands with Ivanov quickly before Arthur started speaking again. "Alright, let's get inside. We've got work to do."

"I have to be going," Ivanov said. "I have a flight to catch soon."

"You're not staying?"

"I trust you. I just wanted to see who was working for me. A good employer knows everyone on his team."

"Ok then… I'll get a hold of you when we're underway."

Arthur shook hands with Ivanov and turned his attention back to the rest of the group, herding them back inside the home. He got everyone settled in the study connected to the balcony Ariadne was standing on.

Eames looked around at everyone. Something was off. He thought about it for a moment before the light came on. "Arthur? Aren't we missing somebody?"

"Ivanov wasn't planning to stay," Arthur reminded Eames blandly while getting his presentation ready.

"What about the Extractor?"

"What are you talking about," Arthur asked, still going through a stack of papers.

"You're the Point Man," Eames said. "Who's going to be the Extractor, now that Cobb's out of the picture?"

Arthur stopped shuffling the papers he had to look at Eames.

"I am," he replied simply.

Eames exchanged looks with the rest of the team. "What do you mean? We have one Extractor and one Point Man. We always have one of each. That's how it's done."

"I will be doing both," Arthur explained, trying to keep his rising temper under control. He knew what Eames was getting at.

"Can you do both," Ariadne asked worriedly, looking first at Eames then at Arthur. "It wouldn't be too much for you, would it?"

"I wonder if Cobb would consider coming back as the Extractor," Yusuf said in a low voice.

"I can do it and no, Ariadne, it won't be too much," Arthur said, purposefully keeping his voice even. "Look – Cobb was my partner and he was excellent at his job, there's no denying that. But the difference between us is that I don't have a dead, murderous wife running around in my head. It was dangerous when he was the extractor because she was constantly trying to sabotage us. You can't compare me to him. Now, can we move on? We really have to get started."

Eames stood up from the chair he was sitting on. "Arthur, old man, I don't know if -"

"- Hey, if you have a problem with it, then just leave," Arthur interrupted, losing his temper momentarily. "I'll handle it."

"Alright, alright…" Eames put his hands up in surrender and sat back down. He didn't say anything else on the subject, but Ariadne couldn't help but notice the disquieted look that passed between him and Yusuf.

"Now, this should be standard procedure right? Sounded like it at first, but I think it's gonna get complicated," Arthur said, putting the previous conversation behind him.

Ariadne and Yusuf just looked at Arthur waiting for an explanation.

"Complications seem to be a specialty of ours. What have you got?" Eames asked folding his hands in his lap while making himself more comfortable.

* * *

_**Bangkok, Thailand, One week earlier**_

"You want us to go to Gotham? The Jungle?" Arthur asked. "What's there?"

"The remainder of Wayne Enterprises. Or rather, the new president, Miranda Tate," Ivanov said.

Arthur sipped his mint tea, clearly intrigued. He had, of course, heard about the shambles that made up Wayne Enterprises. Everyone had.

Rumor had it that Bruce Wayne had become a recluse for nearly eight years before he had resurfaced again. The most recent talk of the town was that he was ousted from Wayne Enterprises.

"I heard she took over for Wayne."

"Yes," Ivanov said. "But nobody knows the real reason except me."

Arthur waited silently.

"As you know, Wick Industries is about energy. I worked for Proclus Global under Saito and Kaneda before branching out on my own. We worked to provide energy to the masses that would not cause any more pollution than already exists. Clean energy. Bruce Wayne was working on one of our projects. He hired a nuclear physicist from my company, a Dr. Leonid Pavel, to build a fusion reactor. The project was announced publicly as everyone knows, but the condition between Mr. Wayne and myself was that our involvement would be kept quiet until the project was proven successful. Wick Industries has become rather… infamous… for its latest attempts at clean energy, as you may well remember."

Arthur listened patiently while thinking back to an incident several years back with Wick Industries which involved a nuclear reactor meltdown. As Arthur remembered it, that particular incident nearly cost Ivanov the company, his family, and his life. It certainly cost him his reputation. The man had received many death threats during that time.

"Mr. Wayne and I discovered that the core of the fusion reactor could be weaponized. We immediately stopped the clean energy project and shelved it indefinitely. Well, he went into hiding shortly thereafter and I continued with my work until I got wind of another man, John Daggett, who wanted the fusion reactor. I knew it would be bad if Daggett got a hold of it. Apparently Bruce felt the same way because he handed the company over to Miranda Tate. And, Wayne Enterprises had pretty much gone bankrupt after we stopped the project. I have learned that even though the company wasn't doing well, it wasn't until after a masked man named Bane attacked the Gotham Stock Exchange recently that Wayne Enterprises really went under. And then he was voted off the board and, in essence, fired from Wayne Enterprises."

'_Fired from the company his father built,' _Arthur thought morosely.

Everyone had heard about the attack on the Gotham City Stock Exchange. It was old news to Arthur, but the fusion reactor was new.

"Weaponized? You mean…" Arthur trailed off thinking of what someone could do with that much nuclear power. The havoc and loss of life would be staggering should that reactor land in the wrong deviant hands.

"Exactly our worries," Ivanov agreed to Arthur's unspoken thoughts. "In the right hands, we would have clean energy. No more smog, coal mining, that sort of thing. But in the wrong hands…"

"A bomb… It would level Gotham entirely," Arthur stated. "But who exactly is John Daggett?"

Ivanov looked at Arthur in surprise. He had assumed everyone knew the issues that went on with the board members of Wayne Enterprises. "John Daggett was a board member of Wayne Enterprises. It was no secret that he wanted Bruce out of the company. He wanted to take over. He was furious, to say the least, when Miranda Tate was named CEO and chair. Miranda Tate was also a board member of Wayne Enterprises. She is in the clean energy business. I believe Bruce put her in charge to save his company and to keep the fusion reactor from falling into the wrong hands."

"So what does this have to do with us?" Arthur asked.

"I have had my men posted in Gotham keeping very close tabs on Miranda Tate and her people. I have a feeling that she is not all she's cracked up to be. There are things about her that aren't adding up, but I can't get close enough to find out for sure. Who is she? Where is she from? What's her agenda? That's where your team comes in. I want to discover what she is hiding. I have a feeling that it's something big - something to do with that fusion reactor. As if that weren't enough, Dr. Pavel disappeared several weeks ago. I think she knows where he is."

Arthur abandoned his tea, an incredulous expression on his face. "Let me get this straight. You want us to perform an extraction, on the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, on a hunch?"

"It's not just a hunch," Ivanov stated quietly. "My employee is missing. He is the only one who knows how to fully operate it. The project we worked on is sitting somewhere, where the wrong person could just walk up and grab it."

Arthur stared at him, still unconvinced.

"I believe that whoever has Dr. Pavel will get the fusion reactor."

"I assume you're not in this out of the kindness of your heart," Arthur asked.

"Not quite. My family immigrated to Gotham from Russia when I was fourteen years old. I lived with my parents in the Narrows, the worst part of Gotham. Against all odds, I got through school in one piece. I finished at the university and after working at Proclus Global, I set up shop in Chicago to get away from Gotham. My parents are still there. They didn't want to leave, so the least I could do for them was to move them to a better part of Gotham. They own a bakery there. I help to cover expenses and I make sure that they are taken care of."

Ivanov looked at Arthur pleadingly. "My family is in Gotham along with half a million others. There are too many lives at stake. My company made the fusion reactor. It's my responsibility. I would not have called you if I wasn't sure of something going on. You're the last hope I've got."

This situation brought back to Arthur a saying he had heard once from an architect he had once worked with. The man always said, "You can't play near a mud hole without getting dirty."

And Gotham, as everyone knew, was the king of mud holes. It was a corrupt, crime-ridden city and the best breeding ground for the worst types of scum. The business that went on every day amongst Gotham's elite made COBOL Engineering's hidden agendas look like schoolyard recess.

There was a reason Gotham was known as "The Jungle." It was every man for himself out there.

Arthur slowly shook his head and sighed. "I want all the details. But you can't hold back on me. If you do, the mission has already failed."

"Thank you so much," Ivanov said gratefully reaching out to shake Arthur's hand.

Arthur stood to leave. "By the way," he started, "I've heard about the Batman that's been running around Gotham. Why not find him?"

Ivanov shrugged. "He showed up the night the masked man held up the GCSE and then he disappeared again."

"Wonderful," Arthur said. "Alright. Give me some time to set up my team."

Ivanov gave Arthur his information. "I'll be in touch."

* * *

_**Present Day**_

The complexity of the task, though still mostly unknown, weighed heavy in the atmosphere. The team was silent for some time before someone spoke up.

"This isn't your usual corporate espionage," Eames guessed.

"No, it isn't. And that's exactly my point," Arthur replied. "That means we are no longer going to be working just in dreams, but in reality as well."

"Wait a minute," Ariadne cut in, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "I thought extraction teams only had to deal with this kind of thing in the mind; with projections, right?"

This was starting to sound like more than she had bargained for.

"Ariadne, who do you think Cobb had been running from for so many years?" Yusuf asked.

"The corporations he had been dodging all over the place weren't trying to throw him in prison - they were out to kill him. This is why I usually never go into the field," Yusuf said, completely relaxed despite the direction the conversation was headed in.

Nadira, who had sat silent for the entire meeting spoke up. "But this job is different, right?"

Arthur nodded. "It's very different. We aren't going to Gotham to take down a company for another businessman. There is a lot involved here. We are dealing with the possibility of a nuclear crisis. We don't know for sure. I don't like going on speculation, but we don't have a lot of options."

Eames tilted himself further back in his chair. "Let's get started."


	4. Man vs Machine

Ch. 3

A warm breeze blew over the team, contradicting the cold nature of the city. It was still warm in the real world, so Ariadne thought it was only fitting to do the same for this one as well. Surrounding them was a concrete jungle, complete with towering glass and steel on all sides.

Gotham looked strange with no trash on the street, or homeless on the benches that were scattered throughout the park the team was standing in.

It was downright eerie without the usual chaos, but despite what it lacked, the Gotham constructed by Ariadne echoed the sentiments of the real thing.

Arthur was deeply impressed by what she had built in a short amount of time. If he didn't know any better, Arthur would have said that she grew up in Gotham, or that she had at least visited a few times. He was surprised when she told him that she had never been to Gotham.

She was accurate down to the rust covered cars on the curbs around them and the choice words written in graffiti on the side of a derelict building not fifty feet away from them.

"I keep forgetting how grimy Gotham really is," Arthur said more to himself than anyone else.

Ariadne overheard him and walked over to where he was standing. "I just went off of the pictures you got from Ivanov and let my imagination do the rest," she explained, hoping that he liked her work.

"Ariadne, this is great, you've done a magnificent job, but what about Tate's penthouse? Do we get to see that today as well?" Eames asked, resting his arm on Arthur's shoulder a moment before being vigorously shaken off. "I like going into an operation knowing where everything is."

Ariadne shook her head. "Not yet. I haven't even begun to work on that. I'm not sure how I'm gonna be able to actually construct it. If I could just get my hands on some blueprints; some interior pictures, something, _anything_… that would make this easier."

She inspected a manhole she was standing over with a frustrated sigh. Arthur could understand her issue. They were on a limited time schedule working with nothing but theories and he knew his team didn't think he was up to the job.

His reassuring smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't worry, I'll think of a way to help you with that. It's my job to make sure you guys have what you need."

"Ok, thanks," Ariadne replied, looking up at him for a moment before turning away.

She tried to hide her concern from him. Ariadne noticed that lately he was more withdrawn and looked worn down from the strain of juggling two major jobs. It was foolish, she knew, but what could she say to him that he already didn't know?

Arthur put his hands on his hips while looking around at the world Ariadne created. "For not ever having been there, you've done a pretty good job. There's nothing I can think of right now that needs improving. Let's get back up to the surface."

The team was very unsettled about the mission ahead of them but they all still prepared the best they could.

Arthur and Eames spent most of their time researching Miranda Tate, her company, and anyone that she had associated with.

Nadira tailed Yusuf, writing down nearly everything he said. She was well versed in the art of chemistry for extraction teams, but she still thought of herself as a student and wanted to learn as much as possible while on the field.

Yusuf, when he wasn't monitoring the other three members during dream sessions or trying to find the right mix of sedatives for them, was sent to a gun range to learn how to properly fire a weapon. Arthur insisted.

"We don't know what's gonna happen – you have to be prepared for anything," he told Yusuf when asked why a chemist would need to go to any place with weapons in it.

Arthur also insisted that Yusuf take classes to learn to defend himself, since the man couldn't fight either.

He was doing all he could to ensure that the job went smoothly but Arthur knew that no amount of preparation could cushion the blow against a shorthanded team. They desperately needed an extra man.

Arthur was sitting at his desk in the warehouse watching Yusuf spar sloppily with Eames. He was lost in thought when his cell phone rang. Frowning, he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. _Private number_. Who could be calling? More importantly, how did they find his number?

He pressed the talk button. "Who is this?"

"Relax Arthur, it's just me." Arthur turned his back from the sparring pair and got up from his desk. "Ivanov, how did you get this number?"

Ivanov's carefree laugh grated on Arthur's nerves. "I have ways of getting what I need. And I promise you, nobody else will ever have this number."

It was not yet ten in the morning and Arthur could already feel the beginnings of a nasty headache forming behind his eyes. Hearing from Ivanov did nothing to improve his darkening mood. "Why are you calling?"

"It's time to move," Ivanov replied, his tone businesslike. "You can only do so much preparation from Tangier. You need to be in Gotham to get the rest of the intel you need. You all should be here by Friday night. It's Tuesday now, that gives you a few days to tie up whatever you need to finish there. And let Ariadne know that I have already taken care of her classes for her."

Arthur glanced up at her empty workspace. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she was worried about missing lectures – you all got to Tangier in a hurry and Ariadne didn't have time to find coverage for work. She was doing the job of an architect and teacher all at once, so I took the liberty of turning in a leave of absence form for her. She didn't tell you?"

"…No, she didn't say anything. And don't those take awhile to get approved anyway?"

"Not for the right price." Ivanov sounded smug.

Arthur didn't ask any more questions. He wasn't sure whether he was angry at her for going above him or angry at himself for not remembering that she had to take care of personal business. It seemed he wasn't the only one burning the candle at both ends.

'_Why didn't she come to me? I could have helped her. If Cobb was still here, she wouldn't have to ask – he would have already taken care of it.'_

Arthur promised himself that when they got to Gotham, he would ensure she got adequate rest before continuing on.

Ivanov jolted him back into reality. "You'll be staying with my parents."

Made sense. Hotels were easily traced. And although the elderly Ivanovs didn't live in the Narrows anymore, they were still far from the eyes of Gotham's elite.

That didn't mean it was the best idea.

"You sure about that," he asked tersely. "My team has a habit of getting shot at."

"It will be fine Arthur, don't worry," Ivanov said reassuringly. "I just need you somewhere you can come and go without too much interference."

Ivanov knew the risks involved, but it had to be done. If what he suspected was true, his parents would have more on their hands to deal with than a bunch of thugs. He posted the men who worked for him all around his parents home and work as well. He would make sure they were safe.

Arthur hung up with Ivanov and walked back to the men, who had given up sparring. Eames was reclining in Arthur's chair, feet up on the desk, while Yusuf was actually sitting all over Arthur's desk.

"What was all that about," Eames asked.

"That was Ivanov. Get ready - we're going to Gotham. I'm going to call Ariadne now."

Friday afternoon, the team touched down at Gotham International Airport.

* * *

During the weeks the team was preparing in Tangier, Ivanov was also readying things for them. He was able to pull quite a few strings and call in favors with past associates to get the team in place to successfully pull off an extraction on Miranda Tate.

The team arrived at the Ivanovs' house and set up in one of the upstairs rooms of the house. The standard sized room boasted a big bay window. The queen sized bed in the middle of the room was pushed off to a corner, and a card table with several folding chairs was brought in.

Arthur and the rest of the team spent their first afternoon at the house setting up their equipment and shuffling paperwork. They unpacked their sparse luggage and stowed the empty designer vessels on the closet floor. They opened the laptop, the PASIV and somnacin needed for the PASIV.

Ivanov had really pulled some strings. With his help, Arthur managed to get Ariadne hired as a housekeeper for Miranda Tate.

Arthur couldn't believe his luck. Her old housekeeper had died three weeks earlier and she had been actively looking for another one.

"This is the best chance we have of getting to Tate. You really can't get any closer to her than in her home," Arthur explained.

"But what if someone sees me coming and going," Ariadne asked apprehensively.

Arthur cleared his throat and looked over at Eames and Yusuf before continuing. "It won't be an issue. You were hired to be the main housekeeper. A live-in housekeeper."

Ariadne's eyes flashed over to Eames and Yusuf. Yusuf was suddenly very busy with the PASIV. Eames was absorbed in his book. Upon closer inspection, Ariadne noticed his blue-grey eyes were fixed blankly on one point on the page and he was holding the book upside down.

Eames heard a disgusted sigh and put the book down to look up at her.

"You're really our best way of doing this. I mean think about it - you're young, observant, bloody brilliant, and you're quite the looker, if I do say so myself." Ariadne rolled her eyes.

"Honestly though," Eames said. "You'd be the last person anyone would suspect. And," he added as he sat up straighter. "Just imagine _that_," Eames continued as he gestured at Yusuf, "in a dress, cleaning house. I don't think Miranda Tate would be convinced."

Ariadne held back a laugh as Yusuf shot Eames a dirty look. But she sobered quickly. She sighed again, resigned to her fate. "You could have mentioned this sooner."

"It was a rush job. We didn't find out until this morning," Arthur replied. "Eames can forge anything, but Tate's people checked out your references thoroughly."

Ariadne sat silent for a moment, before answering grudgingly. "Well, you _did_ tell me you would find a way for me to get the job done. What's going to happen?"

"Think of it as spying," Arthur suggested. "You start in three days. Every Saturday you'll get the day off to go to the safehouse Ivanov set up. You can tell Miranda that you spend the day with your uncle, who is all the family you've got left. You report to us what you see, and we report back to Ivanov."

Arthur moved to sit next to Ariadne on the edge of the bed. "Check out her routine, the people around her. Talk to her, gain her trust. We need to figure out the best time to do the extraction. You're our eyes and ears. You will also have to take note of your surroundings so you can complete the second dream level. Unfortunately, it will have to be from memory. The only chance you'll get to work on the design of the maze is at the safehouse. We can't take any chances of someone finding out who you really are."

Ariadne nodded, getting a better picture of why she had to be with the mark. How do you get close to someone so high-profile?

Now that she thought about it, cleaning their house seemed like a pretty good idea.

"What are you guys gonna be doing?" she asked trying to be casual to mask any rising nerves.

"Nadira will be here waiting here until its time; she's gonna be in charge of the PASIV. Yusuf will be waiting with her unless something comes up, then he will be in the field as well. Eames will be following any other leads we get, still basically doing the same thing you are. And I will be keeping track of the rest."

Arthur stayed seated on the edge of the bed long after everyone left the room. He had serious misgivings about sending Ariadne into Miranda Tate's penthouse for so long. He didn't doubt she could do the job; she had proven herself to be more than capable in this line of work.

He just didn't want her to be alone.

Arthur shook him head in an attempt to clear it. He had heard whispers of his colleagues likening him to a machine. No feelings, no emotions, just work, all day, every day. It was strange to hear that, but Arthur was never one to miss an opportunity. He took a leaf out of the Dread Pirate Roberts' book and let the people have their gossip. Before long, his reputation in the extraction world as cold and analytical preceded him and he didn't have to work as hard to be taken seriously. Cobb swore up and down to Arthur that people called him the Tin Man behind his back.

He was a man of flesh and blood, but if Arthur was a robot, then he knew the precise moment he became sentient.

It started out as a mere interest. She was unique and creative in the way she built her mazes - something Arthur secretly found refreshing. It told volumes about the way she thought and that was something he admired.

Over time, his interest turned into intrigue and before he knew it he found himself hanging on to her every word. Ariadne was highly intelligent and could easily navigate her way through a conversation with him – something many wouldn't attempt. Many times, a debate between the two would become heated. Ariadne's eyes would blaze with passion or anger, or sometimes both, as she would sit and discuss (which was actually just a polite term for loudly expressing ones views) a subject with Arthur. He thought she was beautiful when she was angry.

He also, on more occasions than he would ever admit to, caught himself studying her delicate features harder than he ever studied for a final in school. These feelings disturbed Arthur to no end and he had no real answer as to why or even how it all started. He felt that the best thing to do was ignore the whole thing and move on. Arthur erased the picture of Ariadne's pretty smile that suddenly popped up in his mind.

That was a luxury that nobody in the extraction business could afford. Nothing good ever came of it.

He looked out the window and acknowledged a truth that was probably better locked away.

* * *

_Ariadne snapped to attention when she felt shaking coming from deep within the ground. She looked around and realized she was in a hotel. Everything was neutral. Unfamiliar and yet… very familiar. She couldn't help feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu._

"_What's happening," she asked, more to herself than anything. She had no idea how she got to this hotel and was trying to make sense of her surroundings._

_Ariadne heard someone respond to her. She glanced to her right where there was a man seated next to her, wearing a dark suit. She looked down at herself and saw that she had on a light grey business suit she normally wouldn't be caught dead in._

"…_strangeness of the dream, which is making …for the dreamer… for me."_

_His voice was quiet and smooth, yet had a slight echo to it. He was right next to her, but she still couldn't fully understand what he was saying. His voice was muted, but the tone was familiar to her; she was sure she knew it. _

_Ariadne strained to hear him. 'If only he would speak a little louder…'_

_She felt uneasy. Like something bad could happen at any moment. Ariadne looked around and realized that she couldn't see the faces of the people walking through the lobby, but she could tell they were all looking at her and the man next to her. _

_She looked up at the man to discover that his face was a blur as well. Warm breath tickled Ariadne's ear and expensive aftershave surrounded her._

"_Quick – give me a kiss…" Ariadne automatically turned and leaned into the man. She could feel the heat radiating off of him._

_The kiss was chaste and heated all at once. She felt it all the way to her toes. Ariadne drew away from him and looked around again. _

"… _was worth a shot…"_

'_What did he just say?'_

_She turned towards the man, but he was gone._

* * *

Ariadne launched herself into a sitting position. It was 3 am and the cab wasn't due to arrive at the house until a little after seven. She flopped back down again after a moment and blew out a sharp breath.

'_That dream again,' _she thought, trying to keep her irritation at waking up so early at bay. She touched her lips briefly, remembering the feel of the man's lips against hers.

Ariadne had had the same dream every night for nearly the entire time they had been on the job. Every night it felt more and more real. She didn't understand it. It took Ariadne some time, but eventually she managed to go back to sleep.

She woke up two hours later still exhausted but unable to sleep anymore and got ready for the luggage had been taken downstairs the night before, so Ariadne had spent the better part of an hour sitting on her bed, stewing in her own thoughts before getting up and heading out the door.

It was still dark in the living room when Ariadne got downstairs. As she peered into the dark, she noticed someone sitting in the living room. Ariadne couldn't tell who it was.

All she could make out was a silhouette and the curling steam rising from the mug that was being held. Ariadne focused harder on the figure and finally realized it was Arthur she was looking at.

He was wearing a faded grey t-shirt, jeans, and worn loafers. His hair was slightly mussed. It was first time she had ever seen him without it all slicked back. Arthur was staring pensively out the window, unaware of her presence. Ariadne stood by quietly and studied him for a moment.

For a moment, she felt as though she could see beyond the slicked back hair and tailored suits. She could see that he had lived a very full life with both contentment and regret throughout. Arthur always seemed so middle aged to Ariadne. She was sure that he was the youngest of the men, but he was so serious and came off as unapproachable nearly all the time.

She liked working with him but was always more interested in the goings on of Cobb, Eames, and even Yusuf. They were more exciting to be around. She never gave Arthur much of a thought beyond being the point man. But watching him look out the window reminded her that he was actually quite young. He was older than her by a few years, but he was especially young considering what he did for a living.

As Cobb's former point man, Arthur always remained on guard; he had a difficult job to do and there simply was no room for error. Mistakes costed lives and she had a feeling that Arthur had learned that harsh lesson at a young age.

She worked with him exclusively for quite some time and yet knew nothing about him. She didn't know where he was from; what kind of food he liked; if he really hated Eames as much as he said (although she had a suspicion he really actually liked him); she didn't even know his last name.

The man was a mystery to her.

* * *

Arthur was so deep in thought that he didn't hear her approaching and didn't sense her standing off to the side. Ariadne made a little noise to signal her arrival and he turned to look at her. The cool mask slid back into place.

"Hey," she said.

Arthur put his mug down and stood up. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'm gonna be." Ariadne was starting to feel nervous all over again.

"You'll be fine," Arthur assured her. "Just stick with the plan and it'll be smooth sailing."

"The man with a plan," Ariadne murmured to herself. She moved to open the door and Arthur followed behind her.

It was cold and foggy outside when the pair stepped onto the porch and Ariadne was glad for the thick sweater she had chosen to wear. She felt the weight of responsibility on her. She would be in the lion's den, after all. It was her job to make sure the timing was right for the extraction. She was now the one who had to get all the facts right before the team could make a move. If she messed this up, it could cost them everything. It could cost Gotham.

'_Providing it's all true,'_ she reminded herself. She had to keep reminding herself that they were going on nothing but a hunch. '_There could very well be no threat. Maybe the doctor just had enough and quit. Who knows?_'

Arthur studied the petite woman next to him and was surprised at what he saw. There was no trace of the dreamer that he knew she was as they waited for her cab. Her chocolate brown eyes were now sharp and focused and she looked very sober. It made him wonder what was going through her mind.

They stood in comfortable silence until the dull yellow cab with a long scar on the driver's side, pulled up to the curb.

The pair walked up to the cab with her suitcases in tow. The cabbie started to load all the luggage up and Ariadne turned to move towards the cab when Arthur put his hand firmly on her shoulder. He was not a sentimental man but he wished at that moment he could provide some reassurance that stretched beyond 'you'll be fine.'

Instead Arthur handed her a stack of papers in a folder with an ID card on top. "Your new identity."

Ariadne took the stack and looked down at the ID on top. The first thing she saw was her face and name. Lola Fields. _Lola._ She raised an eyebrow skeptically at Arthur.

"You couldn't have picked out something that suited me better," Ariadne asked. "I don't even have the measurements to go along with this name_._"

Arthur cleared his throat trying his hardest to hide the blush that had crept onto his face and neck. "Time was short. And anyway, Eames picked it out."

"You ready," the disgruntled cabbie rudely cut in as he walked towards the driver's side. He had things to do and a falafel that wouldn't eat itself.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Ariadne said. She turned towards Arthur. There was so much she wanted to say, but nothing would come out except, "Wish me luck."

"See you Saturday. And good luck," Arthur said.

He watched the cab roll away for a moment before he walked back in the house.

'_You're gonna need it,' _he thought grimly.

* * *

Ariadne's cab drove through Gotham's busy financial district before pulling up in front of the Plaza 51 building. She paid her fare and - after the cabbie unceremoniously dumped her belongings on the sidewalk and sped off – took a moment to take in her surroundings. The Plaza 51 building was massive.

As an architecture student, she drank in all the little details. The building looked to be maybe 30 or 40 stories tall and its design, which looked a bit like art deco to Ariadne, spoke of grander times in Gotham City. The stately building reminded her of the Waldorf Astoria.

There was even a valet and a doorman. This was a place for the rich and famous, neither of which Ariadne was. She squared her shoulders and took in a deep breath as she grabbed her belongings and walked into the building, which was decadently furnished.

The first thing Ariadne saw was marble everywhere, a sparkling chandelier in the lofty ceiling and a huge marble and gold staircase in the middle of the lobby, which in itself was cavernous. The décor was so distracting it took her a moment to find the check in area. After locating it among the glitz and glamour of the lobby, she made for the front desk that was off to the right of the door, where a snooty looking concierge stood.

"I'm here for Miranda Tate," Ariadne said with a bright smile.

The concierge eyed her up and down for a moment before asking in an almost contemptuous tone, "And you are…?"

Ariadne's smile fell as she heard the disdain practically dripping from the man's lips. His tone of voice made her want to punch the concierge right in his smug face but she kept her cool. _'You're here for one reason. Don't mess it up,'_ she reminded herself.

She stood up straighter and looked straight into the concierge's eyes. "I'm Lola Fields, Ms. Tate's new housekeeper."

* * *

Ariadne stepped into the elevator that would take her to the 27th floor of the building. She took several deep breaths to try and steady her mounting nerves.

_Ding._

The elevator stopped and the doors opened slowly. She got out and walked up to the wood and glass double doors in front of her and rang the doorbell. She heard light footsteps approaching and then the door opened. She looked up and saw a devastatingly beautiful woman standing in front of her. She was tall, about 5'7 maybe, and was trim but had gentle curves that showed through the conservative business outfit she was wearing.

The woman had shoulder length medium brown hair, skin that was a little pale but looked as though it would tan well, pouty lips and big blue eyes. Ariadne had no idea how old she was but guessed her to be in her early to mid-thirties.

"You are Lola Fields?" Miranda Tate's was soft and lilting with the tiniest hint of an accent she couldn't place.

"Yes, Ms. Tate," Ariadne replied while holding out her hand for a handshake. "It's nice to meet you."

"I'm glad you could make it, Lola," Miranda said with a beatific smile. She had a surprisingly firm grip as she shook Ariadne's hand. "You have no idea how hard I have been searching to find the right person for the job. I'm so happy to finally have you here!"

Miranda beckoned her in and showed her around the penthouse. She discussed the responsibilities of Ariadne's new job which included cleaning and cooking. She was kind and soft spoken, explaining everything thoroughly so Ariadne would have no confusion. Everything seemed normal until the very end of the orientation.

"You have access to the entire house – but – my room is never to be touched. You are forbidden from entering. _Do you understand me_," Miranda asked.

It was the strangest thing to witness. Her voice was smooth and her face was still pleasant to look at but her blue eyes, which looked warm to Ariadne, were suddenly glacial. The gracious hostess was gone and in her place was someone who suddenly looked like a psychopath.

Ariadne nodded mutely in compliance, taken aback by the abrupt change in her demeanor. _'That room is exactly where Arthur will expect me to go,' _she thought, already dreading the task.

Miranda's face cleared and her eyes were warm once again. "Good. You will do the shopping as well for food or whatever else I might need. Besides the errands I send you on, and your day off, you are to stay in here. Do not leave. I will be out of town for today, so take today to rest and get your bearings about you. I will be back tomorrow and I will leave a list of things I want done until it becomes familiar to you."

Miranda left and Ariadne headed to the room she was given. The room was large and ornate with a dusty pink plush carpet. It had a canopied bed in the middle and a dresser with a large mirror attached on the other side. Off to the side of the room closest to the door was also an area with a fireplace and 3 armchairs and a coffee table.

There was a bathroom attached to the bedroom with a glass shower in it and a jacuzzi-like tub. The fixtures all looked like solid gold to Ariadne. In short, it was the most magnificent room she had ever seen. It was fit for royalty.

'_Wow. I wonder what __**her **__room looks like,'_ she thought, amazed at the sheer amount of splendor in the room. She would find out soon enough but knew she that had to gain her trust first.

Ariadne pulled out a book she had and started to read, having nothing else to do, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Miranda Tate. She had only spent the better part of two hours with the woman becoming familiar with the penthouse, but already, questions were starting to form in her mind.

She always heard Miranda Tate was a kind and gentle woman. She figured working for her would be somewhat pleasant – despite what she was there to accomplish – but now Ariadne knew that things were not what they seemed.

What gave Miranda that hard glint in her eyes? Ariadne stopped to correct herself: Miranda Tate's clear blue eyes didn't look hard – they looked dead.

Where was her secretary or assistant? Did she even have one? What was she hiding in her bedroom? Ariadne didn't know what it was, but something was very wrong. She didn't want to be there any longer and suddenly felt vulnerable and unsafe.

Ariadne ignored the rising goose bumps on her arms but looked at the door to make sure it was locked.

'_Ivanov was right to question her,' _she thought uneasily before returning to her book.

* * *

**A/N: Hi everyone. Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think. :)**


	5. Diamants Du Sang

Ch. 4

It had been a few days since Ariadne was sent to live with Miranda Tate and Yusuf was constantly on Arthur about how he could further help the team out since his part of the job was mostly done.

"I have an assignment for you." Arthur dropped a manila file on Yusuf's desk.

Yusuf eagerly opened it up and quickly scanned the papers inside. There, in black and white, was Arthur's answer to his consistent badgering about helping the team.

**Daggett Industries**

**200 Lexington Ave.**

**Gotham City, NJ 08070**

**Dear Mr…**

Yusuf squinted at the letter. He looked up at Arthur. "I can't read this. The last name is smudged."

"Sorry," Arthur said. "Pen exploded." He held up his right hand which had some dried black ink still on it.

"It's ok." Yusuf turned his attention back to the letter.

**Welcome to Daggett Industries where we pride ourselves on excellence, adaptability and growth! I am pleased to have you on our team as a part of the finance and budget sector and we hope to make your time with us a learning experience. **

**Orientation starts Monday, 08/05/2013, at 09:00. Please be at least 15 minutes early as we have training manuals to give to all of our new employees and would you to briefly review it before orientation starts. We have several training centers in the tri-city area but you will be going to our corporate headquarters. The address is listed at the top of this letter. Should you have any questions, please do not hesitate to call us at (856) 578-1139.**

**We look forward to working with you!**

**John Daggett, CEO**

* * *

_**A month later**_

"Hey man, you out of here soon?"

Yusuf looked up from his computer screen. "Not quite yet, Wilkins. I still have to do a double check on these files before turning in."

The young intern straightened up and stepped halfway out of the cubicle. "Alright, I'll see you in the a.m."

Yusuf waved and turned his attention back to his computer. He had spent the day going over the budget for the last 3 fiscal years as an assignment on how to improve Daggett Industries' finances. Yusuf suspected that the assignment was just a time waster but he did it to the best of his ability anyway. After another half hour reviewing the work he had done, Yusuf was ready to call it quits for the day.

He stood up and stretched, trying to relieve his cramped muscles of their tension before twisting around to pop his back. Yusuf turned to his left to reach for a stack of files when he accidentally knocked over the bottle of water he had left open on the desk.

He jumped and cursed loudly at all the water going everywhere and quickly reached under his desk for something to wipe up the mess. After a moment of fumbling around, the only thing he could find was an extra shirt, so he reached for that.

'_I'll just wash it later_,' he thought as he began to dab the water up off the carpeted floor.

He stayed crouched down on the floor for a few seconds trying to dab the carpet dry. He moved his head up to stretch his neck and only stopped when his eyes fell onto the computer screen. He had somehow missed a file.

'How did I miss this?' Yusuf stood up and squinted at the screen, water forgotten momentarily. He remembered the mess under the table, quickly dabbed up the rest of the water and threw the shirt back under the desk.

He then sat down with a heavy sigh and clicked on the file. 'I was hoping to leave on time for once,' he thought glumly.

Apparently it wasn't to be. When the file opened, he saw large clusters of numbers, going up into the billions. At first, all seemed normal as he began to work. He was irritated with himself for having forgotten such a large file. His supervisor, Dan Ross, would have his head on a plate if it wasn't all done.

Yusuf frowned as he discovered another file within the file he had opened. He took a look at the information in the file, not really concentrating, until he came across some more figures. Something about them seemed off. The numbers didn't add up, no matter how many times Yusuf went over them. Every expense down to the four dollar cup of coffee from Starbucks someone purchased that morning was accounted for. Daggett was known to keep a tight fist on his money. But there were outgoing expenses everywhere in this file – outrageous figures - but he couldn't figure out where it was all going or what exactly those expenses were. He couldn't even see where all the money was coming from. He stayed an extra two hours trying to make sense of what he saw but by 7:30 that night he knew something was very wrong.

Yusuf agonized over several days about the next step to take. Should he just tell Arthur? He never liked to speak too soon so he decided he needed more solid evidence before he could report his findings. He wanted to find out where the money was coming from and where it was going.

Yusuf tried to find a way to sneak the information out of the building, but there was no way to do it without being caught red handed. He checked the file every day to make sure nothing was altered or removed and so far it wasn't, but it would only be a matter of time before someone else noticed it. If he couldn't physically take the file out, he would have to find another way to copy them.

* * *

_**Mickey's Taphouse &amp; Grill, 11:00**_

"This is quite the change of scenery," Eames said, looking around the crowded dining room from their dark corner. "We usually don't go out unless it's for drinks and they're still serving brunch. What's the deal Yusuf?"

"Don't want to say just yet," Yusuf said, after swallowing a bite of salmon. "I'm waiting for Arthur."

Eames rolled his eyes. "Waiting for Arthur. Right. So, how's work?" He took a sip of lemon tea before turning his attention to the Mombasa poker chip he always carried with him.

"It's been less nerve wracking than I thought it would be," Yusuf said. "I've been feeling a bit like Bond, with all the mystery and the intrigue. The secret identity and all. You know, minus the cool gadgets."

"And the girls." Eames gave him a cheeky smile. "You've been crunching numbers, Yusuf, not stealing the Holy Grail," he said while straightening up in his chair to adjust his belt.

"Not true," Yusuf countered with a sly grin of his own. "It's more than just mindlessly crunching numbers for hours on end. The right set of numbers can clear the pathway for anything you're looking for. Like our Holy Grail, for instance."

Eames took his attention off the poker chip he was fiddling with and raised an eyebrow at him. "You've found something then, have you?"

Yusuf was bursting with excitement. "Yes! Well, I think I have – I'm not entirely sure yet. It was completely by accident of course, but I'm sure I've got something."

A shadow suddenly fell over Eames and Yusuf's table. They looked up to see Arthur who was looking down at them. "You sound thrilled. What did you find?" Arthur sat down at the table with them.

Yusuf hesitated. "I'm not exactly sure what I'm looking at. I found some hidden files I think might be very important. I want to get a closer look at them but I can't get them out of the building in hand."

"So why did you have to drag us out to brunch to tell us that you _might_ have information for us," Eames said.

"This was the only place I could think of where I was sure we'd be safe," Yusuf said. "I don't know who's been listening in at work and I don't want to be compromised. There's a way to get the information. I want you both to sit with me while I do this."

Eames tucked his poker chip away "How do you plan on getting the information? I doubt Daggett is just going to let you have it."

"I have to break into their database to get it." Yusuf watched Eames' and Arthur's faces for a reaction. "I've heard that Ms. Tate and Mr. Daggett are business rivals. Talk of the town is that they want nothing to do with each other. That's why I was a little surprised when Ivanov assigned me to his company."

"You know he wanted us to investigate everyone on that board," Arthur said. "Everyone else checked out. Daggett was the last one on the list."

"I know," Yusuf replied. "But I still wasn't sure that there was anything to be found. He doesn't even invest much into energy projects. I came across those files purely by chance but Nadira and I started doing some research based off of what I saw in those files."

"I didn't know you knew much about computers," Eames said casually. He didn't seem worried about the thought of hacking into the files of a corporate giant like Daggett Industries. Then again, it wasn't him who had to do it.

"Before he became a chemist, Yusuf worked for Genesis Laboratories as a systems administrator," Arthur said.

"Genesis Laboratories…" Eames slowly drummed his fingers on the table. "Are you talking about the biotech corporation? You weren't a government employee were you?"

"No," Yusuf said. "Genesis Laboratories contracted regularly with the Department of Defense. I was one of the contractors. I started out in their IT department and made the switch to their labs as a chemist."

"Well, when do you want to do this," Arthur asked.

"As soon as possible," Yusuf said. He then paused a moment before looking at Eames. "I've heard you're something of a computer whiz yourself."

"Not the word I'd use, _whiz_," Eames said, swirling his glass of tea around. "Amateur enthusiast's more like it."

"He's being unusually modest," Arthur said drily. "Eames can steal anything given the right motivation. That includes data."

Eames smirked. "Was that a compliment?"

Arthur ignored that.

"So," Yusuf asked. "Are you going to help me?"

"Pass," Eames replied. "Probably best I stay on the sidelines for now."

"Agreed. Let's shoot for tonight," Arthur replied, eyeing his colleagues over the menu in front of him. "We wait any longer, and there's a chance the data might be wiped. We can't lose that file."

* * *

_**Safehouse, 22:30**_

Yusuf set up an extra screen beside the main screen to his desktop and linked them both together in preparation for the next job. Eames and Nadira sat next to him on some padded fold up chairs while Arthur stood behind them.

"So are you going to hack into their mainframe," Nadira asked.

"Doesn't work like that," Eames said. "You can't just break into someone's mainframe and then take what you want. Anyone who has their information so accessible deserves to have it stolen from them."

"So how does it happen then?"

"I have the password to get into the system for employees," Yusuf explained. "It's a private database. There are several levels in the network but I can only get so far before I have to actually hack into anything, since my clearance isn't that high. Plus, Daggett Industries doesn't really have a mainframe, per se. They just use server farms to store and backup all their information."

"Do you think it will take a long time," Arthur asked.

"Hopefully not," Yusuf answered. "Most of my time will be spent studying the chinks in the system, looking for a weakness – a way in. Once I find it, then I can get in and get what I need."

The questions stopped as Yusuf began to work, making his way through the initial employee database using his identification number. After half an hour passed, he hit the limit of his clearance.

"Now comes the work," he muttered as he began looking for a bug in the system.

Arthur paced the entire time and Eames found himself silently looking for vulnerabilities along with Yusuf despite what he said earlier. Another fifteen minutes passed and Yusuf finally found a way into the network.

"Ok Arthur, we're in the right spot," Yusuf said. "The rest is all quick work. Just in and out before anyone knows you're home."

He worked fast as he bypassed several firewalls in place, moving deeper and deeper into the system. He kept a sharp eye out for any detection but was surprised that he had not yet been spotted.

He had several programs in place that could hide him, but those would only work for a small window of time. Daggett's people would be able to work around it quickly. After several more minutes he finally found the files he was looking for and began transferring information from the system into his own hard drive. He even found the first file he had come across and made sure to get that as well. Miraculously he was still flying under the radar.

"Maybe I'll be able to do this without any problems," Yusuf said hopefully.

"Doubt it," Eames said, watching the screen intently. "Mark my words they'll be sounding the alarm soon. A big company like Daggett Industries is always on the lookout for hackers. You know, you might have actually made more money as a white hat."

"I don't think so. Daggett is no Zuckerberg. He's known for being stingy," Yusuf said, also watching the files upload. "He doesn't see the value in people that hack into his system to try and help him. Besides I can't do anything but black hat work in this business. You know that."

Eames gave a small smile at that. "Indeed I do."

BEEP… BEEP…BEEP… BEEP…BEEP… BEEP…

"You had to say something, didn't you," Nadira murmured.

"I guess it was too good to be true," Yusuf said. "Well everyone, I've got good news and bad news."

"What's the good news," Arthur asked tensely.

"The good news is that I'm nearly done retrieving the files."

"And the bad news?

"Daggett's people don't know where or who we are just yet but they're closing in on us _fast._ We have about ten, maybe fifteen seconds, tops, before they find us and the date transfer has about fifteen seconds left before it's complete." A bead of sweat rolled down Yusuf's face as he watched the data transfer into his computer.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP…

"Come on… come on…," he muttered to himself, silently urging the computer to work faster.

BEEPBEEPEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP…

He nervously eyed the screen. There was only a matter of seconds left before they found him. Their signal was getting closer. And then…

BEEP. TRANSFER COMPLETE.

Yusuf looked back at his main screen. He had what he needed and quickly disconnected, his signal disappearing from their network. "Done."

Nadira exhaled a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "We're safe now?"

"We're safe. They don't know who took what from them and now it doesn't matter how hard they look, they won't find us," Yusuf said, smiling widely.

"I must say, I'm very impressed," Eames said. "For a moment there I thought we would get caught with our hands in the giant digital cookie jar. You did well."

"Good job," Arthur said. "Now you can show us the information you found."

Yusuf let everyone calm down a bit before pulling up several pages of information.

"What I have here is Daggett Industries' finance reports as well as Daggett's personal financial background," Yusuf said. "Daggett Industries has always done well – but John Daggett isn't exactly a self-made man either. He comes from old money and already had more than enough capital and the right contacts to start his company and keep it afloat. They say the first five years are the most crucial and only a small percentage of businesses even get to that point. Even fewer pass it. But I noticed that between 1996 and 2002, Daggett Industries' net worth increased exponentially from 20 million to about 40.2 billion."

Eames' eyebrows shot up at that. "In six years? Don't know about that one…"

Arthur shook his head. "Even if he was contracted for _all_ of Gotham's high rises, there's no way he could have made that much money such a short amount of time. At least not legally."

"I'm more shocked that nobody noticed," Eames said.

Yusuf's smile grew wider as he held his hand up. "That's exactly what I said. So we – Nadira and I - did some more digging and found out that Daggett Industries had interests in _West Africa_ of all places, right before that increase. Now gentlemen, can you guess what in West Africa would be of any value to John Daggett?"

Arthur wasn't sure so he looked over to Eames who paused a moment before answering seriously. "Blood diamonds."

"You are correct Mr. Eames."

"I wonder how he ended up in Sierra Leone. Everyone knows about the diamond situation but very few know how to capitalize on it," Eames said. "I mean, it's not the first place I would think to go to make money. Arthur, I have this horrible feeling in my gut that the further down into this we dig, the worse things are gonna get. I think this whole thing is bigger and worse than what Ivanov even knows."

"I'm not even finished yet Eames," Yusuf said before turning back to Arthur. "I thought we could try to help Ariadne out so we started looking into Miranda Tate's background."

"And what did you find," Arthur asked.

"Nothing."

"You mean like she's clean and Ivanov has just been paranoid about her this entire time," Eames asked.

"No. I mean like we found _nothing_ on Miranda Tate," Yusuf answered. "She started working for a financial firm in 2004, but there's nothing prior to that. We don't know when she was born, where she's from, where she went to university, _if _she went to university – nothing. The woman is a ghost."

"I have to admit I was a bit skeptical of this whole job when we started but now I'm fascinated." Yusuf folded his hands in his lap and looked over at Arthur, feeling very proud of his contribution. "I'm still not entirely sure if Daggett or Tate has anything to do with one another, but this should satisfy Mr. Ivanov, don't you think?"

Arthur slowly shook his head. Eames was right. This was worse than what it originally looked like.

"I doubt it, Yusuf," he said. "I want you to keep looking to see what else you can find. Eames, I need you to stay out of sight for now. Stay in the house. I need to make a phone call."

* * *

_**Several hours later**_

Arthur approached Eames handed him two tickets. "Flight leaves for Freetown in two days, first class – courtesy of Mr. Ivanov. And since you aren't familiar with Sierra Leone, you're taking Nadira with you as a guide. She's been through there several times."

When Arthur said he needed to make a phone call, Eames assumed that the call would just be to Ivanov, not an airline for the next available flight to godforsaken Sierra Leone.

"What am I supposed to be looking for," he asked, looking down at the tickets in his hand.

"I want you to find anyone who knows anything about Daggett Industries. I want to know what he was doing in Sierra Leone, how long he was there, when he left, and everything that happened in between."

* * *

_**Freetown-Lungi International Airport, Sierra Leone**_

"You look exhausted," Nadira pointed out to Eames. They had just left their plane and were waiting in the main terminal for their luggage. "Are you going to be alright?"

"I am very tired. But then we've just finished a twenty five hour flight with _one_ layover between here and Gotham. I've hardly had a chance to stretch out my legs." Eames handed Nadira her luggage before picking up his own. "I'll be better after we get out of this airport. Let's go."

Eames and Nadira walked up to the exit and pushed the doors open. He was unprepared for the heat and dust that took his breath as the wind blew in from outside.

'_I've been in Gotham for too long,' _he thought as he tried to adjust to his surroundings.

Eames usually felt at home in the extreme heat. After living in Mombasa, there was no part of the desert he couldn't handle. Unfortunately, it was getting cooler in the U.S. and being in Gotham made him soft to the African elements again.

He glanced over at Nadira and was irritated to discover that she seemed perfectly fine. He was suddenly drenched in sweat, clothes more crumpled than he would have liked, and there she was looking very much put together with a smile on her face. Eames was putting his sunglasses on when the glint of the sun off the gold band on his left hand caught his attention. Arthur insisted that the two posed as a married couple as a safety precaution for the both of them. He studied Nadira over the top of his gold rimmed Ray Bans.

She had a pretty face behind the glasses and her skin was glowing, but Eames thought that was more from sweat than anything else. Nadira's figure was almost nonexistent in the clothing she had on. As experienced as he was with women, even he couldn't distinguish one part from another in her baggy shirt. She wasn't hideous but he didn't exactly find her attractive either.

'_Still too plain,'_ he thought.

Nadira looked over in time to see Eames raking his eyes down her covered legs and raised an eyebrow.

"Can I help you, Mr. Eames," she asked. Nadira sounded stern but couldn't hide the twinkle in her eyes. Eames could be a pig, but he was still fun to be around.

He looked up and gave her a cheeky grin as he pushed his glasses up over his eyes. "I'm quite alright, _Mrs. Eames_," he answered rakishly. "Just making sure my lovely wife survived the trip well, which it seems you have."

She might not have been his cup of tea but he loved flirting with the ladies and Nadira was no exception to that.

Eames and Nadira made sure their belongings were closed up tight before walking up to the busy street.

"Taxi!" Eames risked the heavy traffic and stepped in the middle of the street to flag down a cab.

"Be careful – you are going to get hit," Nadira said, eyeing the cars and motorbikes speeding by.

"I'll be fine," he responded, waving his arm at an approaching taxi. "But we have to hurry. The ferry from Lungi to Freetown is going to leave in less than an hour and it's already getting late."

A rusty taxi screeched to a halt in front of them. Eames ushered her inside and helped the cabbie to finish packing their luggage in the trunk before taking off.

By the time they got across the water to Freetown the sun was nearly all the way below the horizon. Eames quickly loaded up an ugly old, beat up pea green Yugo that was rented for them by Ivanov and began the long drive to Kenema which was nearly 190 miles southeast of Freetown.

* * *

_**Four and a half hours later**_

Eames pulled up to a crumbling, two story motel and dragged himself out of the vehicle after a moment.

"Thank God we're here," Nadira said tiredly. "I thought for sure we were going to break down on the road."

"I was more afraid of crashing into something. It's so dark out here." He looked around the area and was met with the sight of derelict houses, unpaved roads and stray dogs wandering around.

"This place makes Mombasa look good." Eames rubbed his eyes. "It's one giant shanty town out here. Fits right in with the car."

"We should probably get inside." Nadira got out of the car.

The two of them pulled their luggage out of the car and dragged it into the small lobby. The night manager was a short, rotund man who smiled widely when he saw them.

"Welcome to Luawa Hotel. How can I help you?"

He ordered a room for the two and they quickly went up for the night. Eames dropped the luggage on the floor as Nadira eyed the queen sized bed. The door to the bathroom was on the other side of the room and there was a small walk in closet next to the bathroom.

"So who's sleeping on the bed," she asked.

"Both of us," he replied.

Nadira shot him a look.

"I won't try anything," Eames said, too worn out to answer with his normal wit. "I just want to get some sleep."

She still didn't want to sleep on the same bed and tried sleeping on the carpet but ended up back on the bed. By the time Nadira threw her pillow on the bed next to Eames, she was too tired to care about wandering hands any longer. They both slept heavily through the night and well into the next morning.

* * *

Nadira was dressed simply to accommodate the weather and the terrain as best as she could. She was wearing a ragged blue baseball cap with the bill pulled forward, a white cotton shirt, olive green canvas shorts and dark brown hiking boots.

Eames had arrived to Sierra Leone in a linen suit - not unlike the ones he normally favored - but thought he would blend in better if he didn't look like such a tourist. He opened up his suitcase and looked through all the clothes he brought with him. He had nothing but trousers and button down shirts to pick from. After trying to find something more casual to wear, Eames gave up.

"I'm going to stick out no matter what I wear," he muttered to himself as he grabbed some clothes out of the suitcase.

He changed into a blue short sleeved button up shirt, tan trousers, and beige loafers and took to the streets with Nadira. They were hopeful at first and went out every morning to look for information and came back to the hotel every night after it got dark.

After a week and a half, they still had no information and they were getting weary. It was 4:30 in the afternoon when they found their way to a little tea house that was just as dingy as the rest of the town. The pair had walked around Kenema for hours, but still had no luck finding anything to do with Daggett Industries or the mines that he supposedly worked out of.

Nadira tried talking with the locals first but got nowhere with that. Eames then tried to get as close to the mines as possible – he knew that there was no way he would be able to get inside them - but quickly realized he would never be able to get anywhere near them without attracting attention. The two of them were hot, sweaty, tired, sunburned and ready to go back to Gotham. Eames ordered an iced tea for the both of them and sighed noisily.

The waiter was back within several minutes with their drinks.

"I've never had such hard time picking up information," Eames said to Nadira tiredly while handing Nadira her glass. He took a big gulp. "It's almost like the people are too scared to talk to us. Even bribing them didn't work! Who can resist a good bribe?"

"I don't know what else we can do – we've tried everything," Nadira said while pressing her drink to her temple. "We've been out all day, every day, in a country foreign to both you and me, and we still have nothing to show for it. Do you think Arthur will be upset?"

Eames just heaved another big sigh and turned his attention back to his drink. "He might, but this point, I don't really care anymore. Don't know about you, but I'm ready to pack it up and get out of here. "

"You are already giving up? You've been here less than two weeks. If you are looking for information, you have to ask the right questions instead of lurking around all day," an accented voice to Eames' right said. "And you must find the right people to ask."

He looked up and saw an old man sitting next to him, smiling.

"And what makes you think I'm looking for anything," Eames asked, realizing too late how stupid his question sounded.

"Just a lucky guess," the man said, amusement lacing his voice. "You two are the only foreigners here who haven't gone to any of the nearby nightclubs. That's something tourists like to do around here."

"How did you know how long we've been in town," Nadira asked.

"Word travels fast around here," the old man answered. "My name is Sabi. Tell me, what are your names?"

Eames introduced himself and Nadira and took a closer look at Sabi. The man looked close to sixty years old. He had very dark skin and gentle eyes that had no doubt, seen a lot of horrific things in his lifetime.

"So tell me, young man, what brings you two to Kenema?"

"We're here to learn more about your mines," Eames answered.

"Are you are here to ask about that coup? You are not the first ones to come looking for information about it." Sabi adjusted himself in his chair and studied both Nadira and Eames carefully.

Eames shook his head, slightly confused. "We haven't been told about any coup. We were just sent here to find information about a company that might have been here back in the late 90's."

"There was only one company that ran the mines around here. And there was a coup right before they arrived. I can tell you the story, if you have the time."

"Please do," Nadira said trying to hold her excitement in. "We have plenty of time to sit with you."

Eames looked back at Nadira with renewed vigor. They were finally getting somewhere. "Did you work somewhere near the mines," he asked.

"I actually worked in the mines."

* * *

_**Kenema, Sierra Leone; Yoruba Diamond Mine, 1995**_

_Sabi stripped off his shirt in the hot morning sun and got in the muddy water prepared for another day of work. His wife Hanna was at home with their new baby girl. It was their first child. His family was disappointed. They were so hoping for a son, but he didn't care. After going through several miscarriages he was just thrilled that Hanna was able to carry to full term and that the baby was healthy. _

"_Sabi! Come work next to me!"_

_That was Dauda, Sabi's lifelong friend. They had met when they were eight years old and thirty four years later, they were still inseparable. Sabi sloshed through the dirty water to get to Dauda and together they began to work. _

_Around 12:45 pm, Dauda stood up and clapped Sabi on the shoulder. "Let's get some water. It's getting very hot." _

_Sabi agreed. "Alright, but we have to make it fast. I don't want the bosses to say anything. They come down on us enough as it is."_

_Dauda shook his head. "You do everything for them and they still treat you badly. My friend, I am waiting for the day when you have had enough."_

"_I don't know if that day will ever come, Dauda. I have no choice but to endure it for Hanna and the baby. We would be on the street otherwise. That's how it is in Kenema."_

"_You're right," Dauda said. "In that case, I am suddenly grateful for Mabinty's rejection of me when I told her I loved her."_

_Sabi laughed and patted Dauda on the back in sympathy._

_The men worked another hour and a half peacefully before a commotion started. Sabi heard a loud noise and felt the wind pick up tremendously. He looked up and saw a helicopter touch down about 100 feet away from where they were. Sabi and the rest of the men stood to watch the men who stepped out. _

_The newcomers were all white men but they didn't look like the average businessmen who stopped in from time to time. Most people who came to visit the bosses were in suits and they usually came by car. These men looked more like the militiamen from further south near the Congo. _

_Sabi looked at Dauda. "There is something very strange about these men, don't you think?"_

_Dauda shrugged. "Probably just some dealers. Let's get back to work."_

_Sabi was uneasy but turned with him and went back to looking for diamonds. Everyone else went back to work as well and soon they were chatting easily again. He stayed quiet while working. After many years working the mine, Sabi was fast and efficient. He never made a mistake. This allowed his mind to wander a bit when he and Dauda weren't just shooting the breeze. Sabi felt a prickling sensation on his scalp. Something wasn't right with the men who had just arrived. He felt a strong sense of foreboding and hoped that it was just an overactive imagination._

_The men worked a little longer until the sound of a door banging open drew everyone's attention. Sabi looked up and saw three of his bosses run out of the trailer they worked in. A loud tattoo of gunshots followed the initial banging of the door._

_Sabi saw his supervisor Oliver, an Afrikaner from Johannesburg, fall to the ground after being shot in the chest. Some of the men began to run but Sabi was rooted to the spot. He couldn't force himself to look away as one of the men stood over Oliver and shot him point blank in the head. He then turned towards the miners and started firing his assault rifle. _

"_Sabi, why are you still standing there? Let's go!" Dauda grabbed his friend by the arm and dragged him away from the river._

_They were dodging bullets and trying to get through the throng of people running this way and that. Finally, the men found cover under an old canoe tied to a tree that was not visible at first glance. They crouched close together and tried not to even breathe loudly for fear of being heard._

"_We should just stay here and wait it out," Sabi whispered desperately to Dauda. _

"_What if they come and find the canoe," Dauda asked. "I heard one of them say to make sure everyone is dead."_

"_Our only other option is to hide under the bodies out there in plain sight. If we have to then we will, but for right now, I think we will be alright," Sabi said._

_Dauda nodded in agreement and the men hunkered down in silence and listened as their friends and co-workers were systematically gunned down. _

_Soon, it got quiet. Sabi and Dauda waited a little longer before they poked their heads out from under the canoe. They didn't see anyone, so they stepped out of the boat cautiously and looked around. The scene in front of them was beyond grisly. They saw at least 120 dead bodies on the ground and in the river, which had turned rusty from the blood running everywhere. _

_They slowly walked towards the front of the mine, surveying the damage. The atmosphere was eerie in its stillness and the quiet of the area was almost too much to handle. Even the sounds from the animals and birds couldn't be heard. The feeling of death was everywhere around the two men. Dauda and Sabi quickened their pace and soon arrived back at the front office. It suddenly dawned on the men that they were standing in plain view where anyone could find them. They darted behind a bush so they could deliberate on their next step in safety._

"_Maybe the men are all gone now," Sabi whispered. "Let's go up the road and find some help."_

"_I will go in and see if I can find a phone," Dauda told him. "We need to call the police and get them out here."_

_Sabi shook his head. "I don't feel good about this. We don't know for sure that they are gone. Come, let's go and find someone."_

"_We can't just leave this place," Dauda said. "We have to stay and wait for the authorities to show up."_

_Sabi sighed heavily. "I'll go in and take a look around. I'm sure Oliver had a phone at his desk."_

"_Why don't we both just go in together," Dauda asked._

"_We can't do that. What if someone's still in there? Then we will both die and nobody will know. Someone has to stay out here. You stay. I'm going inside." Sabi began to stand up but was yanked back down by his friend._

_Dauda shook his head. "Let me go in. You have a family to take care of. If anything happens to you, how will I ever be able to look Hanna in the face and tell her that I let you do this? I will go. If you hear anything, do not come in after me – just run and get help."_

"_And just leave you all alone? No, I cannot do that," Sabi said shaking his head. "I will come in after you."_

"_No, Sabi. Just run as fast as you can and get help."_

"_But Dauda-,"_

"_What is it the Americans say? No buts? No buts. Don't fight me on this. Just do as I ask. Please. Besides, there might not be anyone in there. Then you will look silly for being so worried," Dauda said with a little smile._

_After a few minutes of tense arguing, Sabi finally agreed to let him go in alone. Dauda went in the trailer and Sabi waited, nerves jangling the entire time. _

'_It is quiet. Perhaps it really is empty,' he thought, trying to stay positive._

_Suddenly a huge crash echoed through the area. Several shots rang out, followed by silence._

_Heart pounding out of his chest, Sabi bolted from his hiding place and ran past the trailer and out onto the main road. He stopped in the middle of the street and turned around, prepared to run back to the trailer before Dauda's words popped up in his mind. _

'_No buts.' _

_Sabi turned and ran to a nearby thicket and crouched down low. The door to the trailer was kicked open and Sabi saw the same men from the helicopter leave. They looked like hardened criminals with their guns and other weapons but the last man to leave was the most curious to Sabi. _

_He was a very large man. Sabi could see the rippling of his muscles and felt the power and strength oozing from him. Sabi knew a leader when he saw one and this man was definitely the alpha of the group. There was something very strange about him though. He had a mask on his face that wrapped around his head and covered his nose, mouth and jaw. The tubes on the mask looked like fangs. It made him look like some kind of animal. The only thing Sabi could see of his face was the man's eyes, which were cold. He was sure that this man had the blood of many on his hands._

_The men climbed back into the helicopter which was whipping bands of wind around the area. Sabi crawled into one of the many bushes in the thicket so they wouldn't spot him as they hovered overhead. He waited until the sound of the helicopter faded away before stumbling out of his spot. He looked over at the trailer with tears running down his face and began to walk towards it. Dauda was in there lying somewhere on the ground, lifeless. Someone would have to go and get him out of there. He took several more steps out into the middle of the street, still walking towards that trailer._

'_He's gone. My best friend. My brother. Gone. If we had just waited a few more minutes… he would have lived.' That thought was on repeat in his mind like a mantra. 'Gone. Gone. Gone.'_

_His steps faltered and he realized he couldn't do it. He couldn't go into that trailer. Sabi turned and tore down the street, not looking back. He learned much later that he was the only survivor._

* * *

**A/N: Hi everyone, thank you for reading this story. I know it's very 'tell-heavy' (as in the Show-Don't-Tell rule) but I decided to just take a chance and post it like this anyway. I hope you like it. Reviews are appreciated! Thank you!**


	6. Secret Places

Ch. 5

_**Washington D.C., Renaissance Washington, 22:25**_

Arthur sat near a window nursing a glass of cognac looking down at the city below him. It was half past ten and there were people everywhere. The hotel Ivanov chose as their rendezvous point was in the middle of tourist central with the White House in one direction, Embassy Row in the other direction and museums everywhere. The business men and women were already gone for the weekend, but there were still tourists milling around and it was Friday night. The young, rich and beautiful would be out in full force.

The sound of several cars honking pulled Arthur out of his thoughts. He looked closer at the street and saw several young people in the middle of the road blocking up traffic. Arthur frowned in concentration. Downtown DC wasn't exactly known for its street brawls. He couldn't make out what was being said but it was apparent that the young men causing the commotion had had a few too many drinks. It seemed as though they were fighting over the girl on the side of the road who was yelling at the both of them. Having nothing better to do while waiting for Ivanov, Arthur kept his eyes on the commotion below.

Several minutes passed and still nothing happened. Just the two men screaming in each others' faces while another woman tried to pull one of the men away.

'_All talk and no action_.' Arthur had become bored and was ready to turn away when a slight movement from one of the men caught his eye. The man had pulled out what looked like a glass bottle from out of nowhere and was now waving it around for the other man - and their audience - to see.

Arthur scoffed at that. '_A bottle? Very juvenile.'_

For a moment it seemed like the unarmed man was gonna back down. He slowly backed up away from the bottle and the other man lowered his weapon slightly.

'_Bad move, kid._' Arthur shook his head. The man shouldn't have lowered his weapon. His eyes widened a bit. The man with the bottle was actually _turning away._

He could only see the unarmed man from the back but he could read his body language. It was tense. He looked almost belligerent from where Arthur was now standing. It was clear the young man hadn't had enough yet.

Arthur knew from experience that youth and unchecked rage usually made for some dumb moves. Of course, the other guy was no Einstein either. Arthur wasn't fully convinced it was the alcohol producing so much stupid between the two, so he wasn't overly surprised when the young man charged the other man, who was still walking away, back fully turned.

The armed man turned around in time to see the other man running at him and put his bottle back up. More words were exchanged and then suddenly the man with the bottle lunged forward and broke it over the other man's head. The young man who was hit with the bottle staggered and fell to the ground. The young woman on the side of the road, whom Arthur assumed was his girlfriend, ran over and knelt beside him.

'_Huh. He actually did it. Well, if there's one thing I've always admired, it's a man of his word.' _Arthur thought dryly. _'Even if it took him only __**half an hour**__ to actually do it.' _He took another burning sip and continued to watch.

The young man finally got back up on his feet, although with much difficulty. Arthur had to hand it to the kid – a bottle to the head would put almost anyone else out for the count. The man pushed his girlfriend back out of the way and charged at the other young man, who was waiting for him, now armed with a shank made from the broken glass bottle.

There were people gathering in a tight circle in the middle of the street as the two young bucks went at each other over a girl Arthur wouldn't look twice at. The sounds of taxis honking trying to get through the blocked street, and people scurrying around the group added to the chaos below.

The scene on the street reminded him of a quote he had read once, from a man named Paul Coelho:

'_**About the nature of human beings. I discovered that confronted by temptation, we will always fall. Given the right circumstances, every human on this earth would be willing to commit evil.'**_

The screams muffled by the glass suddenly increased in volume. The young man with the broken bottle had swiped at the other young man and cut him somewhere on his torso. There was a large amount of blood on the ground now and the injured man was crouched on the ground, holding his stomach. The young man with the broken bottle was nowhere to be seen.

Arthur turned from the window and drew the blinds shut. He felt more tired than usual as he looked down at his watch. 22:30. He looked up at the sound of a brisk knock on his door. He ran his hand over his hip just to be sure his Glock was in place as he went to look through the peep hole. Arthur saw Ivanov waiting, flanked by two other men, and opened the door.

Ivanov was wearing a fitted black business suit with a white button down shirt and a black tie. His hair was parted to the side and combed back and the beard he once sported had been diminished to stubble. There was no trace of the poor backpacker Arthur had met in Thailand.

Ivanov greeted him with a smile. "So nice to see you again, Arthur."

Arthur opened the door wider to let him pass. "You picked a hell of a place to meet up. Right in the middle of _everything_."

Ivanov stepped inside the suite while his men placed themselves across the hall near the elevator and out of earshot. He walked to the front room and sat himself down in one of the armchairs located in front of the television.

"I've been here before," Ivanov answered with a smile. "Top notch service and discretion are priorities here."

Arthur made a non-committal noise and walked back over near the entrance where there was a small mahogany counter with a coffeemaker on top and mirror on the wall behind it. He bent down and opened the cupboard doors to reveal a mini bar. The right side had a mini refrigerator and the left side had shelves with an assortment of snacks and liquor.

"Do you want a drink? I could make coffee if you want, or hot tea. They've got cognac and some vodka on the shelf." Arthur opened up the mini fridge and took a look inside. "There's wine in here, water, Snapple tea, and lemonade."

"I'll have what you've got," Ivanov said eyeing Arthur's drink.

Arthur took out a glass, poured some cognac into it and handed it to him before sitting down.

Ivanov took a sip and looked over at Arthur. "So, you wanted to talk. You have information?"

"I do," Arthur replied. Ivanov motioned for Arthur to start.

"As you know, I've had Ariadne tracking Miranda Tate. She's been with her for a little over a month now, but Ariadne is still in the beginning stages of building the maze."Arthur paused to pull a file out of the briefcase he had next to him. "Yusuf was able to dig up some information on Daggett Industries. This file has everything we've found on him so far."

He handed Ivanov the file and continued to talk as the man started sifting through it.

"Everything seemed in order at first but Yusuf started noticing discrepancies in his financial records."

"Like what kind," Ivanov asked, still shuffling.

"Yusuf found a company financial statement with no money trail attached to it. He couldn't see where the money was coming from or where it was going, so he went almost twenty years back into Daggett Industries' financial history," Arthur answered. "The biggest red flag was the jump in his company's net worth. The biggest bulk of Daggett's wealth was acquired between 1996 and 2002. He got it through mining diamonds in Sierra Leone between the Kenema and Bo districts. We aren't sure yet how exactly he got the mining rights, but Eames is still looking into it."

"And has he gotten anywhere so far with that," Ivanov asked.

"Yes and no." Arthur rubbed the back of his head. "They couldn't get anyone to talk. Memory loss seems to be a thing with the locals. But he did tell me about a guy that was willing to share. Mentioned something about a coup."

"When did you say Daggett was in Sierra Leone," Ivanov asked, his full attention on Arthur, papers forgotten.

Arthur looked down at his paperwork. "1996 to 2002."

"Does it say which mine he first procured rights to?"

Arthur flipped through several sheets of paper. "The Yoruba Diamond Mine, right outside of Kenema. That was the first of about fifteen mines in the area, I believe."

Ivanov stood up and paced, deep in thought. "I didn't think to connect the dots… Did Eames go into detail about what took place in Sierra Leone in 1995," Ivanov asked.

"The guy told what him what he saw but he had no idea why it happened. Needless to say, it didn't give us a lot to work with," Arthur said as he put his stack of papers down. "According to Eames, it was more of a massacre than a coup."

Ivanov nodded as he continued his pacing. "That's a good way to define what happened in there. In 1995, a group of mercenaries staged a coup for the mining rights of several diamond mines in Kenema. I understand it was something like a modern day Blitzkrieg. The coup didn't last long, but it was extremely bloody. Nobody knew who the mercenaries were, where they came from, or who they worked for. The next year, someone moved in and took control of those mines. I've heard to this day nobody knows who the company is, but the rumor is that the company's an American one."

"How come more people don't know about this," Arthur asked. "If this coup was the bloodbath everyone says it was someone would've had to take notice. Someone would have reported it. You can't keep something like that quiet."

"Can't you?" Ivanov raised his eyebrows. "Everyone is so familiar with the Golden Rule: He who has the money, has the power. But in this day and age, there is something just as powerful as money. I would even dare to say more so. Well, almost."

"Which is…," Arthur prompted with a wave of his hand.

"Communication. Or more specifically, influence over the media to get to the public."

Arthur nodded, understanding dawning in his dark eyes. "Ah, I see. Get the media in bed with you, and you have control over what the public hears. That usually takes money though."

"Yes, but if you can't sell yourself or your ideals to them, your money's no good anyway. The media are a fickle lot. You have to know how to play them. But you're correct: get them eating out of the palm of your hand and you have the tools you need to change the current zeitgeist – ideas, theories, education, religion, politics – history, even, if you're so inclined to go that far. It's a big job, but it's possible."

"What about social media," Arthur asked. "Big media outlets use them, but you have normal people everywhere who live on those things. They're much harder to control."

Ivanov shrugged. "What about it? Same principle applies. It's about getting to the core of the people behind the camera, behind the laptop, watching and listening to their televisions, radios and cell phones, and getting them to see things from your point of view. And that brings us right back to the mainstream media."

"So you're telling me that someone paid the media off and planted some story in place of the truth? It sounds a little farfetched, don't you think?"

"It does, but again, you're not gonna be able to pay off _every single person _that is involved in broadcasting the news. If you get enough people repeating the same story though, everyone else eventually accepts it. In this case, the story told was that there was simply 'an accident.' I assume that anyone who knew otherwise kept their mouths shut that way there were no more 'accidents'."

Arthur stood up and walked over to a nearby window. "It reminds me think of the old adage from Joseph Goebbels, 'If you tell a lie often enough, it becomes the truth.'"

"He was a horrible man. An ardent follower of Hitler. But Goebbels was absolutely right." Ivanov shook his head and scoffed. "They… whoever 'they' are… couldn't even make the story sound halfway believable. No wonder Eames couldn't get anyone to talk. Fear is a powerful tool as well."

"That still leaves us with the question of the company controlling the mines in Kenema."

Ivanov looked over at Arthur. "I think it's been Daggett Industries over there this entire time."

"His increase was only between those six years," Arthur said.

"But did Yusuf say anything about Daggett actually leaving the area," Ivanov asked.

Arthur had to stop and think for a second. "No… he didn't. So you're telling me that he never left Sierra Leone and could possibly still have the rights to those mines?"

"Not possibly. I think he still does. Daggett Industries is only 2nd or 3rd in net worth to Wayne Enterprises. How else could he keep up that level of growth and still have the majority of his wealth hidden? With Wayne Enterprises, you could see the money trail very clearly. He didn't hide it. I'm surprised Daggett hasn't been audited yet."

"There's more," Arthur said. "Yusuf was on a roll so he pulled Miranda Tate's records too. Her financial statements were clean. There wasn't anything that stood out in her business records. But he found red flags when he tried to run a more thorough background investigation. She showed up in Gotham in 2004. We know she worked with a financial firm but we can't figure out which one it was. There's no name or record of the company available. Soon after that, she formed her own company. But prior to that, there is absolutely no history on her. We can't find _any_ record of her. It's like she didn't exist before 2004."

Ivanov stared down at all the paperwork in front of him. "I knew something wasn't right with her."

Arthur held his hand out. "The information we have isn't solid enough for extraction yet. But I want to ask you about something. When Eames and Nadira got back, they said that the man they spoke to was the sole survivor out of all the miners involved in the Yoruba incident. The man told them about one particular mercenary who was pretty much in charge of the whole operation. He said the guy was real big and had a mask on his face. A 'masked man,' he referred to him as, I believe. Did you ever hear anything about that?"

"I haven't." Ivanov thought back to all the stories he had heard about the mercenaries. He had heard of several different men but how was it that nobody could remember anything about a masked man?

'_This is the second time I've heard about a masked man,'_ he thought while absently reaching for his bottle of water._ 'First with the Gotham City Stock Exchange, now this… And both were tied to Daggett somehow. Daggett owned the mines and he was also on the board of Wayne Enterprises…'_

It clicked suddenly_. _

'_It's the same man. Gotta be. The masked man from the stock exchange heist and the mercenary. How many men look like that one? But… __о__, __кто __этот __парень__… __как __его __зовут__… think, Ivanov! What was his name… ?'_

His brow furrowed in concentration as he worked to remember the man's name. Ivanov's face smoothed out after several long minutes in silence as he finally remembered.

"Do you remember hearing about the man from the GCSE heist with the mask on his face," Ivanov asked.

"Vaguely. Why?"

"I am almost positive that man is the same one who was in charge of the coup. Which means nobody but Daggett could have been behind this and I think he has been employing this man for quite some time. He was sent there to destroy Wayne's finances and just about succeeded. If it were me, I wouldn't assign a job like that to just anyone. I would go to someone who had already proven themself to me."

Arthur stopped shuffling through the paperwork he was holding and looked up at Ivanov. "Who is he?"

"His name is Bane," Ivanov answered. "He is a well known mercenary throughout Africa and the Middle East. Nobody knows where he came from or anything else about him. I've heard that getting him to work for you is very difficult to do. But he's the best at what he does, if you manage to obtain his services."

Arthur straightened up his stack of papers. "I don't understand what a mercenary would have to do with someone like Miranda Tate. You've seen the papers – she's the 'Darling of Gotham.' Tate's got more charities going than Mother Teresa. No one's gonna believe that she's done anything wrong. Not even the gossip rags."

"I know she's up to something. Everyone has a dark side, Arthur. Everyone has the potential to give in to that side. And if they're smart, they'll have someone else doing the dirty work. That would explain her records being as clean as they are." Ivanov said, standing up. "I have to leave now, but I think we've had a good talk tonight."

Arthur walked with him to the door and shook his hand. "I'll contact you again when I have more information."

"I'll be waiting. And by the way, Saito was right," Ivanov said before opening the front door. "You're worth the money."

* * *

Ariadne felt like she was drowning, in a strange place, where she had no contact with anyone else but the target.

And Arthur expected her to perform a miracle.

The job seemed fascinating at first. Get into the mind of a noted public figure. Find out what made her tick. Find her skeletons. Weeks went by and Ariadne remained hopeful, but Miranda Tate wasn't someone who took time to warm up to people. She wasn't a tough nut to crack. This woman was an impenetrable fortress.

Ariadne was particularly astute when it came to reading other people. The human mind is said to be the greatest mystery to humankind. Learning the mind and unlocking its true potential has proven to be difficult for intellectuals with its vast – and mostly unknown – complexities, yet she was able to understand it in a way very few did.

It was part of why she was good at what she did. She was hired to be an architect but Dominic Cobb was convinced that she would have made an even better extractor.

'_An extractor has to understand the safe he is pulling information from. He must be able to dismantle it and put it back together flawlessly if the job is to be successful.'_

But there was nothing that could be seen with this woman. Even in the privacy of her own home, where a person would be at their most candid, she gave away nothing of herself. It was the most curious thing.

She tried to reach out for help. Ariadne's sense of self preservation wouldn't allow her to just wallow in a mess all alone. She was taught to ask for help if she needed it, and she did. Badly. Of course, there was none to be spared.

Arthur had always been kind and understanding towards her. He had always come through with help but things were different with this job. Arthur was still doing a two man job and everyone else had their part to play.

"Ariadne, I never said this was going to be an easy job," Arthur said, not unkindly, one particular Saturday. "I need you to continue to try. Try harder. Get outside your box. This is why I asked you to do this. I know you're capable of getting what we need. As soon as you find something, we can get you out of there."

That's what he always said. And she always tried harder than the previous week. Ariadne tried talking with Miranda. Sitting with her. She even gave details of her own life in hopes of starting a conversation that would lead to building trust. Miranda Tate was always polite but distant. She talked with Ariadne and somehow managed to say nothing.

And so fascination turned into frustration, which in turn was transformed into resentment at being left to fend for herself. Ariadne was deep in sleep one night when Arthur's words came to her in a dream.

'…_Try harder. Get outside your box _… _I know you're capable of getting what we need…'_

Ariadne woke up the next morning with Arthur's words in her ears and an idea bouncing around in her brain. Extraction was a fickle business. Even the most precise planning couldn't ensure a successful mission because one never knew how the subconscious of one target or another was going to react to invasion. It was tricky, but it had to be easier than inception.

She got out of bed and got dressed for the day, thinking about a quote from Einstein that she had read many times over the years.

'_Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.'_

And she supposed she _had_ been expecting different results every time she tried to talk with Miranda.

Still she persisted in trying to gain her trust. She didn't like the underhandedness of the idea she had and tried to set it aside and forget it. But it was a tenacious thing. The thought just wouldn't leave her and before she realized it, Ariadne had worked out the kinks and perfected this little plan. Ariadne hated thinking about the criminal aspect of the whole idea but there really was no more avoiding it. When a person was drowning, they did whatever they could to save themselves.

And she was going to get her information, one way or another.

* * *

_**Plaza 51, Gotham City, a week later, 14:07**_

The air was crisp and stung her cheeks as Ariadne flagged a cab down while simultaneously wrestling to keep her large duffel bag on her shoulder. It was Saturday and she was on her way to the safehouse. Recreating the penthouse was surprisingly easy, even with all the little details. Ariadne was in the process of creating a dream layer that was only slightly similar to the penthouse. She always kept one of Cobb's many rules in mind: never recreate from things that are real. Only use a small detail here or there - never whole sections of rooms or streets.

Over the last week Ariadne worked out how she would execute her plan. She had never performed an extraction with a team, let alone by herself. Arthur would never agree to it. But she had no other option. She hadn't given up on trying getting Miranda to talk but that still wasn't going well. Ariadne began to observe Miranda closer than she had before but this time she wasn't looking to get close to the woman. She was studying her habits. How she lived. What she ate. Her bedtime. Any mention of friends or lovers. Anything and everything she could find out.

That proved to be difficult as well. Miranda Tate was a busy woman and often wasn't home so Ariadne didn't get to observe her consistently. She wasn't deterred though and continued to watch. At the end of the month she still had very little information but what she did have was valuable to Ariadne.

Highly disciplined people usually proved to be creatures of habit and Miranda was no different. She rarely deviated from her daily schedule and really had no use for an assistant Ariadne learned. She had a secretary at work but that was it. It had taken quite awhile but Ariadne had observed Miranda's comings and goings enough that she thought she might have her schedule down.

The dusty yellow cab stopped in front of a small section of townhouses. Ariadne gathered her things, paid the cabbie and exited the cab. She walked up the narrow sidewalk that was lined with decorative red rock and led to the smooth oak front door. She opened the door and was met by the sight of the man who lived in the safehouse.

"Hey Ted." Ariadne smiled at him as she closed the door behind her. "How've you been?"

Ted Fields had his feet propped up on the wooden coffee table in the living room while watching a popular sitcom complete with canned laughter. He was a nice man, possibly in his late 50's, early 60's. Very grandfatherly. Nothing out of the ordinary about him other than the fact that he had no family of his own. He claimed to have been an accountant from somewhere in Ohio.

"Hi Ariadne, doing good," Ted answered, not taking his eyes off the TV for a moment. "The boys are in their usual spot."

Ariadne smiled her thanks and made her way through the kitchen and down into the basement.

"Ah, she has arrived," Eames stated, turning to look at Ariadne. "Did you bring the rest of the model?"

"Yes I did," she answered. Ariadne dumped her oversized duffel bag on a table and got started assembling all the pieces.

An hour later, she was completely done with the second part of the maze. Ariadne got Nadira, who was upstairs in the kitchen getting something to drink, and approached the men.

"I'm officially done. Gentlemen, if you're ready, I can give you the grand tour."

Everyone got comfortable and hooked themselves up to the PASIV. The last thing Ariadne focused on before Nadira pressed the button releasing the sedatives and somnacin was the sight of Arthur closing his eyes.

Ariadne memorized the moment Arthur's smooth eyelids with their shocking line of dark lashes closed. She let her eyes wander perceptibly down the bridge of his nose and sweep across his cheekbones before everything went black.

Arthur walked around the front layer studying the details while Yusuf whistled his appreciation from the wet bar near the kitchen. He studied the marble floors and high ceilings with fascination. Even the furniture was over the top opulent with its cream color and gold trim.

Eames was impressed with what Ariadne had done. It felt very much like Miranda Tate without actually being in her home. He could tell, looking at Ariadne's creation, that her tastes were simple but very elegant.

"Look at this," Yusuf crowed gleefully while surveying the champagne. His eyes widened at the sight of a dark green and black bottle. "Is that what I think it is? A bottle from Krug - and a 1928 at that! _Very_ expensive."

Arthur walked upstairs with Ariadne looking around as she led him through the penthouse. At the end of the hall was a pair of double doors. He walked up to them and turned the handle only to find it locked. "Her room," he asked.

Ariadne nodded and watched as Arthur studied the doors. The safe into her mind. Just like in the real world, whatever she was hiding would be behind these doors. "On par with Cobb's work," he said glancing at Ariadne before walking away to finish his inspection.

She nodded and tried not to grin with pride at being equaled with Cobb who was the best architect in the business before retiring. Arthur wasn't one to acknowledge a job well done very often.

Ariadne followed Arthur back downstairs to meet the others when a familiar strain of music reached her ears. Arthur was walking into the foyer when he looked back at Ariadne, hearing the faint echo of Edith Piaf's voice, and Yusuf and Eames who were milling around the foyer stood still as they also listened to the musical countdown they knew so well.

"Time's up," Arthur said.

* * *

Ariadne opened her eyes and was back in Ted's basement with the music still playing in her ears. She took off her headphones and moved to get out of her chair when her other teammates came to. Arthur disconnected himself and sat silently watching everyone else.

"How did it go," Nadira asked.

"As well as can be expected," Eames said, taking the needle out of his arm. "She did a good job."

Yusuf sat up and looked at his watch after removing his needle. "It's a little after 4:30. Late lunch anyone? Happy hour starts pretty soon."

Arthur was ready to decline when Eames cut in. "I'm in. And I promise you it won't be an early night. I hold my drink well," he said. "Arthur – you're going too, stop shaking your head, you've no choice in the matter. You as well, Nadira. You can sit beside me. Or in my lap. Whichever the lady prefers, although I do prefer the latter."

Nadira tried ignoring both her suddenly warm face and Eames' rakish grin. "I wouldn't expect anything else from the likes of you, but yes, I'll go with you all. I think I'm free tonight."

Eames snorted at that. "Don't act like you have any dates for the night, darling. You don't have a life - nobody who works with us does."

Yusuf looked up at Ariadne. "Well, are you coming with?"

Ariadne's hands became ice cold as she was reminded of what she had to do. '_This is the best way,'_ she thought.

She tried her best to look and sound tired. "Oh no, I don't really feel well and I need to get back to the penthouse soon. You guys go ahead."

Arthur turned around, concern in his face. "Do you want someone to get you a cab at least?"

"No, no, it's ok. Really. You go. Eat something."

Ariadne's teammates left after several minutes of her insisting she wasn't feeling well, but was well enough to go home on her own. She slumped against the front door for a moment then steeled herself for what was next.

They were gone to dinner and Ted was still parked in front of the television, asleep. Ariadne guessed that she had a few hours or so before anyone got back to the house, but she didn't want to take any risks.

'_Now or never,'_ she thought.

Ariadne ran back through the kitchen and down into the basement. She grabbed her duffel bag from under the table and opened it up as wide as it would go before turning around to open a wooden closet door with a mirror on the other side.

Ariadne met her reflection and blew out a loud breath. People would kill for Yusuf's sedatives and the extra PASIV. She didn't understand why he kept his supplies in an unlocked closet, but for now she was grateful for it. Ariadne didn't want to think about how long it would be before anyone noticed them missing. She almost lost her nerve thinking about the hell that would break loose when everyone - and especially Arthur - had discovered what she had done.

'_It's for a good cause. He'll understand… I hope. You can do this,' _she thought, giving herself a lightning fast mental pep talk before springing back into action.

She proceeded to tear through the shadowed closet until she found the supplies she needed. Ariadne got the extra PASIV Yusuf kept, some sedatives and Somnacin and shoved it all into the duffel bag. She then packed up and made her way back downstairs as quickly and quietly as she could.

As she reached the front door, she heard a loud noise from behind her. Heart in her throat, she whirled around to see Ted, on the couch, still sleeping, but now loudly snoring. Ariadne opened the door, still a bit shaky, and left the house as inconspicuously as possible.

She took out her phone and called for a taxi and when one finally pulled up she hopped in. On the ride back to the penthouse, Ariadne tried to relax with the Caribbean music coming from the radio, but she couldn't. Yusuf never said where they were going to eat. The team could have been anywhere, so she kept her head almost completely covered for most of the ride. The cabbie eyed her suspiciously for a moment, but otherwise kept driving without saying anything.

When the cab reached the Plaza 51 building, she got out with her bag, paid the cabbie, and walked in and over to the elevator as calmly as she could while trying not to appear paranoid. She doubted Miranda was home yet, but there was always the chance she could pop up unexpectedly.

Somehow Ariadne managed to make it back up to the penthouse and into her room without drawing any more attention before finally breathing a sigh of relief. The first part of the plan was finished. Now all she had to do was find someone to watch the timer. Money was no problem. She just needed someone who would take it and keep their mouth shut after it was all said and done.

* * *

**_A/N: Hi everyone, I'm sorry it's taken so long to post this chapter, I've been very ill the last few months but I'm slowly getting well again. Just wanted to tell whoever's reading thanks for taking the time to read what I've got. I appreciate it and hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think so far. :D_**


	7. Subterfuge

Ch. 6

_**Plaza 51, Gotham City, 09:24**_

"Taxi!" Ariadne stepped off the curb outside the Plaza 51 while flagging down an approaching cab and hopped in when it pulled up alongside her.

The cabbie glanced back at her and started the meter. "Where to?"

"48th and Jefferson please. The dry cleaners' on the corner," she answered distractedly. Ariadne was in the middle of pulling out the list of errands left for her to do when she looked back up and suddenly locked eyes with a man on the opposite end of the street, sitting on a bench.

Gotham was a crowded city. It wasn't uncommon to meet eyes with someone for a moment with so many people around but the homeless were virtually ignored. Ariadne was guilty of looking right through them as well on several occasions but she studied him for a moment. She guessed the man across the street looked to be in his early to mid thirties, about 5'10, maybe 5'11, with blue eyes, disheveled brown hair and an overgrown beard. His frame looked bulky but it was hard to tell with all the blankets and layers of clothing obscuring his body.

The cab pulled away from the curb and Ariadne turned her attention to her list, the man on the street already forgotten.

_**Four hours later**_

The cabbie helped Ariadne take the groceries and dry cleaning out of taxi and took off quickly after she paid him. She began gathering up all the bags, looking up after feeling someone's piercing gaze on her.

It was the same man from earlier. It didn't look as though he had moved from the spot he was in earlier that morning. His outright staring began to unnerve Ariadne. He looked like a quiet man, completely at ease where he was sitting, but Ariadne sensed something off in the way he looked at her and his surroundings. Most of the homeless men she saw had bleary eyes, lined with fatigue, tired from lack of food. His eyes were very sharp and constantly moving. Almost like he was watching for something. She broke eye contact with him, finished gathering up her bags and made her way inside as quickly as she could.

Every day for the next week and a half Miranda sent Ariadne out for one thing or another and every single day that man was in the same spot, no matter what time of day it was. His eyes always found her when she left the building.

* * *

_**Gotham City Park, 12:35**_

"Arthur are you sure you don't need me to come by," Ariadne asked, looking around at the families playing in the snow. She transferred her cell phone from her left hand to her right.

"You did your part Ariadne with the maze," Arthur said on the other end of the line. "Until you have more info on her, there's no point in you coming back to the safehouse. We can't go through with the extraction until we have some kind of evidence proving Ivanov's suspicions. If she really is clean then we can't do the extraction at all. But it's on you. We don't have the luxury of time and our window is closing. I need something from you _soon_. Don't let me down."

Ariadne sighed as Arthur hung up. He usually wasn't so abrupt but the team was being held up because of her and she knew it. Ariadne tucked her phone away and looked around, thinking about what Arthur had said. He didn't know about the PASIV yet, which was unbelievable to Ariadne, but that gave her a little more time to find someone to man it.

She was watching several children play on a swing set when a slight movement to her right caught her eye. Ariadne didn't have to look over to know that it was the same man from outside the Plaza 51. She picked up her bag and was ready to walk back to the penthouse as quickly as she could when she noticed he had no blankets with him.

He wasn't wearing very many clothes either - just an old sweater and jeans with holes in them. The man didn't seem very cold. Ariadne noted that the man had a medium sized frame and by the looks of it, hadn't had a decent meal in a few days.

Ariadne began to walk away from the park, acutely aware of her surroundings. She was sure the man would follow her, and she was right. She could almost feel him walking behind her. Ariadne walked about three blocks, stopped suddenly and turned around. The man from outside the Plaza 51 was standing 10 feet behind her.

She raised an eyebrow. _'Starting to wonder if this guy didn't want to get caught. Maybe that's his way of begging for food.' _Ariadne froze in place as a solution to her dilemma suddenly presented itself to her, like a gift on a shining silver platter. She looked the man in the eye and smiled sweetly at him.

"I've noticed you sitting outside the Plaza 51." Ariadne walked slowly towards the man, not wanting to startle him. "How long have you been there?"

The man's hard gaze softened into uncertainty as she inched closer to him. He didn't speak for a few long moments and when he finally did, his voice was rusty from disuse.

"About a year. I see everyone who comes and goes. But I've never seen you before."

Ariadne stopped about 3 feet in front of him. "Yeah, I'm kinda new around here. What's your name?"

"Name's John."

She noted that behind the creakiness of his voice was a slight accent. The soft, mellow tone she heard didn't fit with the man's sharp features and piercing eyes. But it was of no concern to her what he looked like. As long as she got what she needed, it didn't matter.

"John. That's nice. I'm Ariadne. Not to be too terribly forward, but you look like you've missed a meal or two."

"What about it? You offering food?" John eyed her suspiciously. It wasn't everyday a young beautiful girl smiled and talked openly with him.

"Yeah actually I am. I was just thinking that maybe you'd like to eat something. Find shelter. Take a shower. I mean, you followed me for a reason didn't you?"

John stayed silent, watching her carefully.

"I have a proposition to make." Ariadne continued. "Seems to me like you need money. I need someone to help me with a project. I can make it worth your while. Ten thousand dollars to help me. What do you think?"

"A crock of BS is what I think it is." John took a slight step away from her. "Nobody pays that kind of money to a stranger."

"I realize I probably look crazy to you right now. But I can prove what I'm saying. All I need is a chance for you to hear me out. What I need to do is not something many people understand. And those that do understand know that it isn't exactly legal. I chose you because you are invisible to those around you. I need someone that can blend in."

"_You_ noticed me," John pointed out.

"I have sharper eyes than most." Ariadne shrugged. "This is a one time job. I have the ten thousand waiting, should you accept. I will not give you up to the authorities or have any contact with you when this is done and over with. We'll do it quick and be on our way and nobody will ever know. You'll be safe. I give you my word."

"How do you know I won't betray you instead? You put your hope in the unknown. It is a foolish thing to do."

"I don't. But you're the best candidate for this. And what we're doing, you won't be able to explain to just anyone. Like I said, there are few who know what it is we're doing and fewer you could talk to about it."

John stayed silent, weighing his options. The ten thousand would help him a great deal. He had his own… _projects…_ to work on. He wasn't sure what the girl was getting him into but it was worth a look. John wasn't afraid of trouble. He lived a hard life. Nobody knew trouble more than he did. And who knows? Maybe he would acquire a new skill.

"I accept. But if I don't like what I see, I'll be gone before you even realize it."

Ariadne smiled. "Just give me a chance. You won't regret it. You wanna get something to eat? I know a pretty good place over by the Plaza 51. We'll go over the details."

* * *

Ariadne caught a lucky break.

Miranda had come down with the flu and was home the following Friday. She stayed up as long as she could but was in bed by 7:30 that night. Yusuf had unwittingly taught Ariadne how to measure out the sedatives according to height and weight so it was no problem for her to put a heavy – but not so heavy as to do damage - dose of sedative in Miranda's tea, to keep her asleep as long as possible.

After she was sure Miranda was out like a light, she called John and quickly snuck him up to the penthouse. It wasn't hard once she learned that the night doorman spent most of his time in the office drinking Rotgut vodka from a plastic jug instead of manning the foyer.

She hooked herself and Miranda up to the PASIV. Ariadne's goal was to be back out in maybe ten minutes in real time which equated to about two hours in dream time.

Ariadne was nervous. She had gone over with John how the PASIV and the countdown system worked. Even though she didn't need the musical countdown or a kick, she still couldn't afford any screw ups. "You ready John? Just watch the timer. It'll wake me up in 10 minutes. Ok?"

John nodded and seated himself near the PASIV. She gave him the signal and he pushed the infusion trigger in the center.

* * *

The absence of light and stale, stagnant air were the first things she noticed. Ariadne opened her eyes and took a moment to get her bearings about her while studying her surroundings. She was standing off to the side, deep in the shadows of an open air dungeon – a prison of some sort.

There were cells all around and above her, with iron bars for the doors and windows. Ariadne was standing in the corner of a square courtyard. There were concrete stairs with railings all around, and in the middle was what looked like a pool of cloudy water.

She noticed that the dungeon had very high walls with large, uneven stones, almost impossible to climb, with multiple levels. She couldn't believe how grey everything around her was. It only added to the despair she felt just looking around the prison. Ariadne didn't think she would be able to see much of anything if it weren't for the hanging lights in the cells and the weak sunlight from the top of the pit. It felt like she was at the bottom of a very deep well.

There were prisoners everywhere – dangerous, feral looking men - and as she began to slowly walk around, it hit her that she was the only female in sight. Ariadne panicked for a moment, but as she walked by a cell, she saw that it was open with a cloak on the ground.

Ariadne snatched it up before anyone could see and quickly wrapped it tightly around the lower half of her face. There was a loud noise coming from the courtyard. Ariadne stuck to the shadows to avoid being seen but crept closer to the cacophony. As she listened closely, she realized that the loud, jarring sound was actually a chant.

She heard the words _Deshi_ and _Basara_ being repeated in staccato syllables. She had no idea what the men were saying, but they were all looking up. She followed their collective gaze and noticed a man, with a rope around his midsection attempting to scale the wall, more than likely trying to climb out. It was almost too easy to stand and watch the prisoner try and escape.

The atmosphere reeked of hopelessness and desperation. It was almost as if these prisoners had become more like animals in order to just _survive_ in a pit where the weak were devoured.

Ariadne watched as the man fell back down. He wasn't given a chance to try again. It was disturbing how the other prisoners swarmed all over the man. The rope was torn away from him and he was thrown aside to make room for another who would try to climb.

She felt nauseous watching the horror of it all. There was no humanity to be found.

'_Why would Miranda Tate have dreams of a place like this?' _

It didn't make sense. Miranda was rich, almost beyond measure. She enjoyed the finer things in life. What did this desolate pit have to do with her? Ariadne receded back into the shadows just in time to see two people pass.

A strong looking but rather lean young man, possibly in his early twenties, walked by carrying a young child in his arms. Ariadne looked at the child. The child had a shaved head, skinny limbs wrapped around the man's neck, bright blue eyes, and pouty lips. At first glance, the child could be mistaken as a boy, but if anyone were to look close enough, they would realize that it was actually a little girl, about 7 or 8 years old.

What shocked Ariadne was the startling resemblance the child bore to the high society Miranda Tate. The facial features were rounded with youth, but were nearly identical otherwise.

Time seemed to slow as she stared at the ruddy faced child with dirt packed fingernails. She was rooted to the spot and had somehow forgotten to breathe. Ariadne glanced down at the girl's twig-like left arm. Miranda had a scar on her left bicep that looked like it had been a very deep laceration at one point. She never spoke of it and Ariadne never asked.

'_No scar. Maybe it's not her after all_,' she tried to tell herself.

There was a loud noise sounding from the opposite end of the courtyard. Ariadne tore her eyes from the child and searched for the commotion.

The second man who was climbing the wall fell, and everyone issued a collective and disappointed groan. The prisoners didn't really believe that the man could escape, but it was an amusing thing to watch. They watched one person after the next try to climb the sprawling stone wall in the same manner that a group of men would congregate around the TV for a football or basketball game.

Ariadne returned to the obscurity of the shadows. The girl had disappeared; Ariadne set off to find her. After a few minutes of turning down one corridor after another, she finally located the pair. The young man and girl were in an uncluttered cell with a hard concrete floor, sleeping on a rickety old cot.

Ariadne stood and observed them, still hidden from view in a dim corner. Suddenly, without any warning, the girl awoke and stood from where she had been sleeping. She crossed the cell and opened the door. Ariadne followed her as she crept from one staircase to another until she had made it all the way down to the stone pool at the bottom.

The girl crouched down and began to drink from the pool of water. Ariadne didn't like how murky the water was and wondered how safe it was to drink.

'_This isn't right… she shouldn't be here alone.'_ She hoped the girl would hurry and silently tried to will her back to her cell.

Ariadne's skin went clammy and beads of nervous perspiration blossomed on her forehead when her eyes landed on five men who were, at that moment, making their way down another section of stairs and right down to the water.

Her heart began to beat furiously as she started to panic. She wanted to call out to the girl, issue some shrill warning, sound - an alarm of some kind, but she was in a dream. Ariadne wasn't so sure what the consequences of interfering would be. They weren't good when she did it with Cobb.

The men, who were talking and laughing, fell quiet when they saw the girl. One man stepped forward and leered at her. His lascivious thoughts didn't need to be verbalized.

The girl, who had spotted them at the same time Ariadne did, had moved to a stone wall on the far side of the pool. The presumed leader of the quintet said something nasty to the girl in what sounded like Moroccan Arabic.

The girl stayed mute while the other men laughed and moved a little closer. Not wasting any time, the first man, who had crossed the room without Ariadne noticing it, lunged at the child.

The girl let loose a blood-curdling scream that echoed throughout the empty room and managed to slip through the man's arms. She made a dash for the nearest staircase when the other four men ran towards her. The men circled the girl, not unlike a pride of lions circling a gazelle. Their eyes were glazed over with lust.

Ariadne was glued to the floor, only capable of looking on in horror. The girl, who was visibly shaking, made a soft keening sound as the men closed in around her.

Suddenly the girl was cut off from Ariadne's view by the limbs of the girl's predators. Ariadne thought she was gonna be sick. She was going to witness probably the most horrible thing she had ever seen and could do nothing to help.

"TALIA!"

A deep masculine voice echoed through the prison and the head of each attacker snapped up in the direction of the sound.

The tall, broad-shouldered man who had earlier been carrying the small child suddenly appeared at the top of a set of stairs on the second level.

As he passed by Ariadne, she saw his handsome features were twisted into something very dark and dangerous. His face held the promise of death but Ariadne couldn't find it in herself to feel sorry for any of the men. All five men abandoned the young girl and ran up the stairs to rush him. The powerful man gave a guttural growl and moved to meet the approaching men head on. He swung his arms and fought them all at once with nothing held back.

She watched as pure rage was unleashed into the dank prison. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. The violence that took place outdid every movie that she could remember watching. It was unreal. The child curled in on herself, not far from Ariadne. Her large, blue eyes took in every bone that broke, every drop of blood that was spilled.

It seemed to Ariadne that in just a few short minutes, he had torn through all five of the men and left them barely alive with their limbs horribly twisted on the unforgiving ground.

The young man rushed over to the girl and hoisted her up into the cradle of his arms. He began soothing her in a gentle voice when a loud commotion sounded. There was a mob of angry men rushing towards them. Ariadne backed away from the pair and made her way up another set of stairs. She stood safely on the third level and watched everything below her from a shadowy corner.

The young man began to run with the girl still in his arms but fell hard as someone tackled him to the ground. The girl tumbled out of his arms and was grabbed by two prisoners, their faces swathed in beige muslin.

The young man shoved his attacker away and took on the men that had the girl. He scooped her from the ground and ran around the edge of the stone pool and around the courtyard to the looming expanse of the wall.

There was a heavy feeling that settled around Ariadne. It smelled and tasted like death. She shivered under her cloak but kept watch from the courtyard entrance. She watched as the young man urgently talked to the girl.

From her vantage point, she couldn't hear what was being said, but she saw fear in the young girl's face. The man spoke briefly and then grew quiet. He didn't speak again, but touched the girl's face gently, memorizing her features.

He lifted the girl onto the first ledge to begin her climb and Ariadne noticed that she was bleeding profusely from her left arm. As she grabbed hold of the ledge, the crowd from earlier rushed up to the man and grabbed him.

The girl climbed onto the ledge and turned to look down at the man who had protected her. Ariadne knew a goodbye when she saw one, even if it was unspoken. It was such a tender, emotional thing; feelings that didn't - and couldn't - exist in a place like the pit they were standing in.

The man, who struggled earlier looked up at the girl and stopped fighting. He seemed to be in peace. He mouthed something just before he was completely swallowed by a sea of hands that punched, tore and ripped his flesh apart and broke his body. Ariadne watched the girl climb the stone wall.

There were no tears on her face, just a familiar determination that Ariadne immediately recognized. The girl climbed the wall with efficient agility until she got to a wide gap in the ledge. It was the same space that the other man had fallen.

She tensed and watched the girl pause for just a moment before leaping with everything she was capable. Ariadne held her breath, hoping she would make it. There would be nothing left if the other prisoners ever got a hold of her. The girl miraculously made the jump that grown men hadn't been able to accomplish. She then continued ascending, never once looking back. Ariadne realized then that the girl had made the jump without the rope. It was a powerful thing, seeing someone take a leap of faith, whether it be in school or at work, or a literal leap of faith.

She retreated to the shadows without sparing another glance down at the crowd. She didn't want to see what was left of the man who helped the young girl gain her freedom.

* * *

Ariadne opened her eyes and found herself back in Miranda's room. John began to say something but Ariadne cut him off with a quick shake of her head. She took the other line out of Miranda, who was still asleep, and proceeded to pack up. John wordlessly followed suit and five minutes later they were back in her room.

"So, what happened?" John asked.

"I…I don't know," Ariadne answered, still shaken. "I was in a prison that looked like the bottom of a well. There was this little girl and -," she cut herself off, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

That dream was one of the most disturbing things Ariadne had seen in her life. She felt sad for the girl and especially the young man. She had a sudden urge to cry and wished John weren't there at that moment.

Ariadne collected herself and motioned to John. The two of them left the penthouse. Once they were safely outside, she turned to John and reached into her pocket for the wad of cash that was now his. "Ten thousand, as promised. Go quickly and don't look back."

John took the money wordlessly and disappeared down the street. He didn't turn back and Ariadne didn't stay to watch him go.

* * *

John stuffed the cash in his pocket and kept moving, mind on what had just happened. Ariadne was right – there was no way he would be able to explain it. She thoroughly explained what it was but what she did was something that had to be seen to truly understand.

After twenty minutes of walking, he reached the entrance to the sewers and lowered himself in. John followed the curve of the tunnel until he reached a wide opening. John stepped through it and entered a large space that had been converted into a room. To the left was a ledge with cool, metal railings. Beyond the railing was a waterfall of stagnant sewer water.

To the right was a narrow bed in the far corner and maps affixed all over the concrete wall. John focused on the ledge where two men stood talking with one another. The first man was wiry looking and stood at six feet. He had on black tactical pants with kneepads, and a black shirt with a black Kevlar vest over it that had seen better days. The other man stood well over six feet tall and was powerfully built. He was wearing black laced combat boots with severely scuffed toes and dark olive green cargo pants. John noticed that the usual accompanying vest he usually wore was lying on the bed.

The broad-chested man was shirtless and had striated defined muscles and a scar that ran the entire length of his spine. He stopped talking and turned to face John who focused on his face, which only showed his sharp hazel eyes. The rest of his face was obscured by a black metallic mask that covered his nose, mouth and jaw.

It wrapped itself around the man's head and lower face and in the space between his eyes. The coiled grey tubes around the mouth area eerily resembled fangs. When he finally spoke, his voice was an odd rumbling mixture of melodious and mechanical.

"Barsad. You're back sooner than expected. What do you have for me?"

* * *

Ariadne spent the entirety of the following week in a state of perpetual worry, her thoughts predominantly occupied by Arthur. She had to find a way to tell him what she had seen. The information was crucial to the mission but she couldn't think of a way to do it without alerting him to the fact that she had stolen equipment and initiated an extraction.

He might not realize what she had done initially, but he'd suspect enough to investigate. And when he found out - and he _would_ find out - it would be over for her. Knowing Arthur, he would more than likely remove her from the job. Ariadne, lost in her thoughts for a moment, sighed and continued to mop the kitchen floor, still undecided on what to do.

Half an hour later, Ariadne heard the front door slam shut. At first she just kept cleaning the kitchen. Then she stopped as she remembered that Miranda had a full day of meetings and probably wouldn't be back until at least 9:00 that night. She looked at the clock, heart suddenly pounding hard. 11:30.

There _was_ a way to get information while skirting around the unauthorized extraction. Seeing what was in Miranda's head finally gave Ariadne the courage to do what she should've done from the beginning.

She figured had ample time to try and get into Miranda's room, but breaking into a room could take some time - especially since she had never done it before. And she couldn't chance Miranda suddenly popping in. It would only take once to be discovered.

'_This might be my only chance for a long time,' _she thought, putting the mop down in its bucket.

Ariadne first checked the rest of the penthouse to make sure everything was in order. She then walked upstairs and stood in front of Miranda's door, nerves jangling. She kneeled in front of the door handle and studied the lock. It looked like a typical door lock, nothing fancy.

'_Always keep a tool of some sort on you. It can be anything: a knife, a bobby pin - whatever. Just have something with you all the time, you never know when you're gonna need it.' _

This was the first thing she had learned from Eames about picking locks.

Since then, Ariadne kept a small Swiss knife on her, along with her totem. It had a few different knives and tools on it that often came in handy for her.

"_Just as you would be aware of your surroundings, you should be aware of the item in front of you. What type of lock you're dealing with, the type of knob, any scratches or dings on it. It may seem like a minor thing, but it's important. You should be able to assess all of that without even touching the door. Some people like to booby trap their doors. If anything looks odd to you, don't touch it."_

She studied the door handle and the lock for a moment before reaching for the knife in her pocket. Everything looked good so far. Ariadne lifted her arms to bring the knife up towards the lock. As she did that, she wobbled slightly, losing the balance she had on her knees and suddenly pitched forward.

Ariadne's hands shot out reflexively and her left hand latched onto the door by accident. As she regained her balance, she realized her hand was gripping the doorknob and that it was unlocked.

'_Oh God, something's wrong,' _Ariadne thought as she scrambled to her feet. _'Miranda never leaves her door unlocked. I should just turn around and leave… call Arthur, tell him it can't be done. Something's not right.'_

But as she was thinking these things, her feet were on autopilot, moving her forward until she was all the way in Miranda's room, with the door closing softly behind her.

For the next hour, despite her blaringly loud internal warnings, Ariadne poured over every nook and cranny in the room. She had searched high and low and was getting frustrated when she realized that she had missed the closet entirely.

Ariadne stepped through the French doors leading to the inside of the closet, her gaze wanted to be everywhere at once.

Inside, it was huge and just as decadent as the rest of the room. There was a large cheval mirror with heavy gold trimming on the opposite side of the closet, and shelves all around it. Miranda had clothes for days and shoes for every social engagement. And yet, everything still had its specific place.

Ariadne searched through the closet, running her fingers against any hard surface she could find from top to bottom, and carefully looking between the layers of clothing. Another 45 minutes later, she threw herself on the floor in frustration, hot, sweaty, and horribly disappointed.

There was nothing.

All she had learned in that time was that Miranda had a passionate love for all things Michael Kors. Not helpful or useful in any way. She stood up, stretching, joints popping, and studied her reflection absently.

'_All this time spent here for nothing,'_she thought bitterly.

She turned to leave when something caught her eye. Up near the left hand corner of the mirror, there was something that looked like a tiny switch. The top of the switch glinted in the faint light from the rest of the closet.

Ariadne's eyes had caught it from a strange angle, or else she would've never noticed it. She narrowed her eyes and reached up towards the switch and pushed it up. She jumped back as there was a soft sliding sound, like a door gliding open.

The mirror slid to the right, revealing a tiny room that had nothing in it but a thin black curtain on the opposite wall. Ariadne walked over and pulled the fabric aside before stepping inside another room. She saw a small office that looked more inviting than the rest of the penthouse put together. The room was done in earth tones. The walls were a light green with a wooden floor. The furniture consisted of a desk, a few comfy looking chairs, some shelves and a desk lamp that was still turned on. They were all some type of brown or green. The room reminded Ariadne of a forest.

It didn't seem like Miranda's taste at all. She looked around the office and still saw nothing real personal. She didn't understand why Miranda wanted to hide an office if there was nothing to hide.

'_The hidden door was a little intense, but still nothing here...' _Ariadne thought as she opened up the desk and saw nothing out of the ordinary. She tried hard not to disturb anything, but still lightly shuffled the papers around in the top drawer. She frowned as her hand bumped against something towards the back of the drawer.

Ariadne peered in and saw two little booklets, one dark blue, the other Bordeaux red. They were passports.

She opened up the dark blue one; an American passport.

Miranda Tate. The name and picture was clear as day on the page.

Ariadne closed that one and picked up the other passport, which was a French passport. She opened it and saw the same picture but a different name.

Talia Ducard.

Ariadne's mind went back to Miranda's dream. The man in the dream addressed the little girl as Talia. She also remembered that as the little girl was climbing, she was bleeding profusely from her left bicep in the same spot as Miranda's scar.

Ariadne's hands went cold. She thought what she had seen was a vivid dream of Miranda's. She was wrong.

It was a memory.

* * *

**_A/N: Hi everyone! Just wanted to say thank you again for reading. Honestly I wasn't too happy with this chapter (writing can be so difficult sometimes...) but I hope you liked it anyway. Or could tolerate it at least lol. Let me know what you think! :D_**


	8. Viva La Revolucion

Ch. 7

_**Murder Mystery Mayhem – Business Magnate Found Dead**_

_**At approximately 1:30 a.m. last night, the body of industrial giant John Daggett, CEO of Daggett Enterprises, was found just outside his home office. The cause of death was reported to have resulted from a severe cervical fracture although no confirmations can be made until the official autopsy report is available to the public. Surveillance cameras show several people entering and leaving Daggett's office throughout the day but no arrests have been made as of yet. Police officials have declined to make an official statement saying only that they cannot comment on an ongoing investigation. A PR officer from the Fortune 500 company is expected to speak with the press within the next few hours. **_

Arthur shut his laptop and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. _'Our link to both Tate and the mercenary… gone, just like that_.'

Anyone with half a brain could read in between the lines. 'A severe cervical fracture.' Meaning someone had walked into Daggett's home and snapped his neck with enough force to kill him, and Arthur was pretty sure he knew who that someone was. Breaking someone's neck took a lot of effort and strength that not many people possessed.

He would have to rely solely on Ariadne now - there was no more choice in the matter. The team was out of time and options. Arthur wasn't one to push hard for results but she was working too slow and was perhaps too new to have been out on the field alone. Cobb would've stuck beside her and helped her along but Arthur didn't have the luxury of time and patience this time. Not as the lead extractor. And especially not now with Daggett officially disposed of. He could only hope that she found something, and soon.

He got up out of his chair and made his way downstairs where Ivanov was standing near one of the sofas in the living room.

"Привет Arthur. Давно не виделись," Ivanov smiled wanly.

"Yeah it's been awhile…," Arthur responded, still disturbed with the article he had just finished reading. "I didn't expect to see you here in Gotham, Ivanov. Is it even safe for you to be here?"

Ivanov scoffed at that. "Why wouldn't it be? I know this place better than most." He then smiled at Arthur. "I like to know what my people are doing at all times. Saito taught me to always keep a close eye on my assets. _Investments_, he called you all."

Arthur glanced over at Yusuf, Nadira and Eames who were all parked in front of the TV.

"Did you hear what happened to Daggett," he asked in a low voice.

"We've all heard about it," Eames said loudly, eyes still on the TV. "Shame, really. I had planned to get into his office and dig around to see what I could find sometime next week."

Ivanov looked over at Eames before letting his eyes settle back on Arthur. "I heard. And I think we both know what really happened. Whoever is behind it all is starting to tie up loose ends. Makes me wonder what their plan is. Daggett was one of our only leads, right?"

"Unfortunately he was," Arthur confirmed. "But we still have other avenues to work with."

"For Gotham's sake, I hope so," Ivanov said grimly. He turned and walked towards the kitchen.

"Ah, this is what I was looking for," Yusuf said enthusiastically as he found the channel he wanted to watch. There was a football game getting ready to begin between the Gotham Rogues and the Rapid City Monuments, and he had never seen Gotham play. Eames wasn't really one for sports, but it was a welcome distraction. Arthur's gaze flicked over the television for a moment – he was still lost in his own thoughts.

Eames and Yusuf, who were taking bets on what would happen during the game, fell silent as a young boy walked out onto the field and began to sing the national anthem. Nadira got up and walked towards the kitchen for something to eat.

"You want something to drink," Ivanov asked loudly from the kitchen.

"Soda will be fine for us," Arthur called out quickly before Yusuf could speak up, checking his watch.

"Kid's got a nice voice," Eames said in quiet admiration of the young boy's clear, high soprano.

After the anthem was sung, the game commenced. Yusuf and Eames watched as the Monuments delivered the opening kickoff. They settled back into their seats, bets wagered, as the Rogues caught the ball and began running for the other side, dodging players right and left.

Halfway down the field, the game ended abruptly. The ground exploded, chunks of land going everywhere. Both of the men yelled as the scene in front of them became one of chaos. Eames sat up straight and leaned towards the television in disbelief while Yusuf stood up, still watching, hand over his mouth. Arthur wheeled around to face the screen as the noise had pulled him out of his thoughts. The men all looked at each other as the ground beneath them trembled slightly.

"What was that," Ivanov asked as he came out of the kitchen with soda cans in his arms, followed by his parents and Nadira.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw what the team was looking at. The dust died down on what was left of the field – where there were no players to be seen - but the screams were building. A large man with a black mask accompanied by several other men and a large machine stepped out onto the field.

"Who are those men," Nadira asked.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that would be the mercenary who worked for Daggett, and his associates" Eames answered, eyes glued on the man with the mask. "The miner we talked to in Sierra Leone described him very well."

The masked man picked up a headset with a microphone from a dead referee and began to speak, addressing the citizens of Gotham.

"Gotham, take control! Take control of your city! This… this is the instrument of your liberation!" Bane's men brought another man out onto the field to kneel in front of him. Arthur heard the sound of cans dropping to the ground. He turned and noted that Ivanov's complexion drained of color completely when he saw the man who knelt before Bane.

"Identify yourself to the world," Bane commanded.

The man spoke, sounding almost out of breath, eyes on Bane. "Dr. Leonid Pavel, nuclear physicist."

"And… what is this," Bane asked, gesturing to the machine nearby, while watching the people in the stadium.

"It's a… fully primed neutron bomb, with a blast radius of six miles."

"And who is capable of disarming such a device?"

"Only me," Dr. Pavel answered after another shaky breath and a slight shake of his head.

"Only you," Bane repeated, pausing for a moment to consider what Dr. Pavel just said. "Thank you, good doctor!"

And with that statement, Bane reached down to where Dr. Pavel was kneeling and promptly broke his neck, eliciting more screams from the audience.

Arthur watched the horrific scene in front of him but wasn't surprised at what had transpired. It seemed to be the masked man's method of killing. Now that he had seen it for himself, he was convinced that it was him who killed Daggett. Arthur was also very sure that the authorities would find no sign of Bane ever being in his home. Whoever was at the top of that chain would see to it.

Ivanov was in tears, seeing Dr. Pavel's lifeless body fall to the ground, and looked like he was going to be sick. He thought back to the first time he met Dr. Pavel. He was new to the company and didn't know anyone. The man took him on as a friend and an apprentice. He learned almost everything he knew about nuclear physics from this man. His parents were just as distraught, holding one another, staring at the images on the screen.

Bane brought his attention back to the horror filled crowd before him.

"Now, this bomb is armed!" The crowd's screams died down as Bane continued to speak. "This bomb is mobile! And the identity of the triggerman is a mystery. For one of you holds the detonator! And we came here not as conquerors, but as liberators to return control of the city to its people. And at the first sign of interference from the outside world, or for those attempting to flee, this anonymous Gothamite – this _unsung hero_ – will trigger the bomb. For now, martial law is in effect. Return to your homes, hold your families close, and wait. Tomorrow, you claim what is rightfully yours."

Bane dropped the microphone and walked off the field. Both the living room and the stadium were deathly quiet as the mercenaries left behind their leader.

Yusuf and Eames were still frozen in front of the television. Nadira slowly walked towards the TV and sat on the arm of the couch. Ivanov was behind the sofa, frozen, tears still leaking from his eyes.

Arthur was about to try consoling Ivanov when his phone rang. He picked it up and was on the phone for less than a minute when he hung up turned back to Ivanov.

"Ivanov, we still have a lot of work to do. My other associate is on her way. You were onto something with that hunch of yours. You have to pull yourself together. She'll be here to talk to you shortly."

* * *

Ariadne arrived to the safehouse in a rush. "What's going on out there," she asked. "It's like a circus all over the city."

The streets were teeming with people stocking up on supplies, finding loved ones, trying to do last minute things before the real madness set in.

"In simple terms, the start of anarchy," Arthur replied.

Ariadne reached into her bag and pulled out a small digital camera she had. "Here, look at this." She handed the camera to Arthur so he and everyone else could look at the photos she had taken. "For the last few months I tried different ways of getting info, mostly through what she could reveal about herself through talking. But, as you all know, it didn't work the way I wanted it to. She's not one with loose lips. So I did the only other thing I could think of – I broke into her bedroom."

Eames turned and smiled. "Did my training come in handy?"

"Yes Eames, it did," Ariadne said with a small smile of her own. She would mention the unlocked door - as well as the extraction - later.

"So, I searched her room and after an hour or so I came across a hidden door in her closet, which led to another room. In that room I found two passports. The reason you couldn't find anything on her was because Miranda Tate is an alias. Ivanov was right – she is _not_ who she says she is. I didn't see much else besides the passports but the fact that she has two tells me that she's hiding something pretty big."

"I don't understand." Yusuf faced Ariadne. "You've been at this for months. Why choose now to break in?"

Ariadne swallowed. The first lie of many. "This was done out of desperation. We have no time left and I exhausted all other ways of getting any information. She just wasn't responding."

Yusuf shook his head. Extraction was something that had to be carefully planned. And how did she know she would even find anything in the bedroom? Something wasn't right with her explanation. She had to have gotten some kind of intel that would make breaking into Tate's room plausible.

Arthur handed the camera over to Ivanov after looking and everyone else crowded around him to see what Ariadne had found.

"You know you could be killed for having these," Ivanov said tonelessly, still reeling over the execution of his friend and colleague.

"It's an occupational hazard," she responded.

"If you are not careful, she can make your end a messy one. Watch your back."

The atmosphere in the room got colder when Ivanov laid eyes on the picture of Miranda's passports, side by side.

"Talia Ducard…," he murmured, eyes stuck on the passports. "боже мои... Пожалуйста прости меня, Леонид. I'm so sorry. I should've… been keeping a closer eye on you. I should've realized you were in trouble."

"I didn't even know you could forge a passport," Nadira said in a hushed tone from somewhere in the back of the group.

"It's doable, but just barely," Eames said, still staring at the picture. "It's also, as you can probably guess, highly illegal."

"Not unlike everything else we do," Yusuf responded.

Ivanov looked up at Arthur. "This is what you needed for extraction, no? Solid evidence? I suggest you move in quickly. The good doctor's death has triggered a countdown for the rest of the city and we still need to know what else she is hiding. We still have a chance to stop this."

Arthur nodded at Ivanov before looking at the rest of his team. "We have what we need now. It's time."

After relaying all the information she had, Ariadne walked to the front door, trailed by Arthur, Nadira, Eames, and Yusuf. Ivanov was still brooding in the living room.

"Ariadne, it's getting dark out there. Do you want someone to wait with you," Yusuf asked, stepping forward.

"I'll stay with her," Arthur said, sending everyone else back into the other room.

"It's ok Arthur, I can wait here. You should get some rest." Ariadne couldn't help feeling awkward. She was sure Arthur had other things to do than to just stand with her waiting for her cab.

Arthur chuckled softly. "Don't worry, I'm fine. I can wait with you."

The pair stepped out onto the porch and took in the frigid air in silence. Arthur's face was smooth and impassive as he looked out at the other houses on the street. His eyes betrayed none of the swirling emotion he felt inside.

Now the real work would begin. He finally had the information he needed to do an extraction. Arthur didn't want Ariadne to go back to the penthouse. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach since seeing those passports that something bad was gonna happen.

Arthur observed Ariadne from the corner of his eye and noted how worried she looked. Even with these thoughts in his head, Arthur couldn't help but notice how smooth her skin was, or how soft her lips looked. Her eyes shone in the ever increasing twilight. She absently brushed her glossy chestnut colored tresses out of her face and Arthur's hand twitched.

"Do you feel like waiting around for the cab? I could just drop you off." The words were out his mouth before he could stop himself.

"I don't mind if you take me home," Ariadne answered.

"Ok, hold tight for a minute while I get the car."

Arthur pulled up moments later in a glossy black Mercedes, courtesy of Ivanov. He personally owned a sleek, top of the line grey Aston Martin V8 Vantage, but he never used it on the job. When Ariadne got in the car, her senses were immediately accosted by the smell and feel of expensive leather and jazz music playing quietly in the background.

"Are you warm," Arthur asked. "I can turn the heat down if it's too much."

"I'm ok Arthur," she reassured quietly.

The car was silent again for another moment before Arthur looked at her again. "Are you doing ok," he asked. "I mean, have you really been alright? Has Miranda treated you well?"

Ariadne paused before answering. Arthur never inquired about her so personally. "Yeah… I've been doing ok. Miranda's not usually around a lot, but when she is, she's been civil with me."

Arthur nodded. "That's good. I want you to stay extra sharp. She's bound to notice soon enough that you've gone through her belongings."

"About that – something strange happened this morning," Ariadne turned to face Arthur. "I was going to use my Swiss Army knife to undo the lock on her bedroom door but when I touched it, the door was already unlocked. She never leaves her door unlocked and has told me on several occasions that I wasn't allowed in her room without her being present."

The bad feeling Arthur had intensified. "I don't care what time of day or night it is – I want you to call me if anything looks suspicious to you. At this point, you're only there to let us in when we do the extraction. After that, you're coming back with us. We're gonna do the extraction ASAP. The longer you're in there, the more dangerous it's gonna be for you."

"Do you think she already knows," Ariadne asked, trying not to look horrified.

"I don't know. But that unlocked door raises just about every red flag I have. Be careful and watch her." Arthur would keep an eye out as well. He felt like he was overlooking something. Things just weren't adding up.

* * *

Barsad hid in his usual spot – across from the Plaza 51, in the shadows. This time he came as the mercenary he truly was, not the homeless man that was there every other day. He watched as an expensive black car pulled up near the front entrance, dropping someone off. He assumed it was just another businessman or a call girl.

He grew still when he saw that the person standing on the curb was Ariadne. The driver was a young guy with dark hair and a nice suit. She said something to the man and he smiled back at Ariadne and said responded to her before driving off.

Barsad turned looked up when he felt a large, calloused hand on his shoulder. Without his noticing, Bane walked up on him. He was a large man, but he moved quickly and with quiet steps.

"So this is the little thing you were telling me about," Bane asked impassively as he studied the young woman who stood on the curb. "Who is she?"

"She's Talia's housekeeper. Her name is Ariadne. I don't know her last name," he said reluctantly.

Bane looked down at Barsad. His right hand man usually had answers for him. "Where is she from?"

"I don't know. I just know that she is not what she seems. Talia doesn't know what she is. She's been working for her for several months. I didn't even see her until recently. She told me Talia doesn't allow her to leave unless she's running an errand."

"What is she?"

Barsad wasn't sure Bane would believe him if he told him. He had never heard of her job before and if he hadn't witnessed it firsthand, he wasn't sure he'd believe it either.

"She's a dream stealer. Her colleagues call themselves extractors and she's an architect for them. Her team was hired by someone to break into Talia's mind and steal information. I don't know what though. She didn't talk to me about it."

Bane watched the petite girl walk inside, eyes glinting in the darkness like a predator who has just found his prey. The girl was brave for walking into the lion's den. She was cunning and obviously intelligent if she could fool Talia. Bane had to admit, he was slightly disappointed that this little girl had bested his Talia without her even knowing. The girl was formidable but she would not get past him.

"Come - explain to me what this is. A dream stealer…," he commanded in his deep, lyrical voice. He walked away towards the sewers, smiling under his mask. In time he would break her.

* * *

Ariadne made it back up to the penthouse and into her room before Miranda got home. She sat on her bed replaying everything she told the team and everything they had told her. She had felt a small tremor in the ground earlier during the day, but didn't know what it was. Eames was the one who informed her that a masked man blew up Gotham City Stadium, killing everyone on the field and forcing anarchy on the citizens.

She looked at the time and went to the kitchen. Miranda would be home soon and expected dinner to be ready. She was very particular about her food. She preferred light and healthy meals.

Ariadne was listening to the nightly news on the TV and putting the finishing touches on a salad, a clear onion soup, and a few slices of baguette when Miranda walked through the front door. Ariadne stopped what she was doing, turned the TV off and went into the foyer.

"Hi Ms. Tate, did you have a good day," Ariadne asked.

"It was decent," Miranda answered while shrugging off her coat. "Total chaos outside today though – things being blown up, madmen running through the city; what's the world coming to?"

"Well, dinner's just about ready," Ariadne said. "I have a salad, soup, and -,"

"I don't have an appetite," Miranda interrupted waving her hand. "I think I would just like to soak in the tub and then go to bed. Just bring up some tea," Miranda added as she made her way up to her room.

An hour later, Ariadne took a tray of calming tea and some fruit to Miranda's room. Miranda was sitting on the edge of her large four poster bed drying her hair. Ariadne knocked and walked in with the tray, putting it on the nightstand next to the bed.

Ariadne turned to leave when Miranda called out to her. "Lola, wait a moment. Come here."

She turned to face Miranda who looked up at her with an unreadable expression on her face. She patted the bed, motioning for Ariadne to sit next to her. Ariadne walked up to the bed and gingerly sat down, unsure as to what Miranda wanted.

Talia studied the girl for a moment. Lola had proven herself capable as a housekeeper but Talia wondered if there was more to her than just being able to clean house. The girl didn't look stupid and Talia didn't sense fragility from her which was very good. She hated weakness.

Lola didn't say much, but for Talia, that was a plus - excessive talking was another weakness - something that could be used against you by the enemy. It seemed to be a popular pastime of the women in her office who spent their days prattling away with one another – women with no brains and even less discipline. They were a disgrace to her gender.

The girl looked like she had some mettle to her but she honestly had no idea why she was considering talking to the little one. Talia wasn't sure she would survive the chaos long enough to see the city consumed by the bomb blast.

"I'm sure you've heard about what happened today at Gotham City Stadium," Talia began.

Ariadne nodded. "The speech the masked man made was shown on the news earlier."

"Yes. We heard it at work as well. The masked man said that tomorrow, the citizens of Gotham will claim what is rightfully theirs. I have a feeling something bad is going to happen. It's dangerous outside right now. It will be even more dangerous tomorrow." Talia looked sharply at Lola to be sure the girl was paying close attention. "But you are still my employee. I will try to run everything the same as we have done it before. You will remain in here. You are not to leave without my permission, do you understand?"

Ariadne nodded again, squashing down the worry that was beginning to build.

"We will be ok," Talia said. "I will survive of course, and you will survive. I understand it sounds somewhat macabre to talk about this, but the possibility of death is real. We have to face this. Do you have any questions?"

"No." Ariadne had nothing to say to Miranda. Her mind was on bigger things, like the upcoming extraction.

Talia nodded, smiling at Ariadne. The smile didn't reach her eyes. "Very well then - we're done here."

Ariadne got up to retrieve the tray on the nightstand and turned to leave. She turned back around for a moment to say goodnight to Miranda when the words died on her lips. There was nothing to be happy about with the city being attacked, but she could have sworn that Miranda looked contented, almost joyful, as she lowered herself under the covers. Ariadne quickly turned and fled the room, wanting to get as far away from the woman as possible.

Talia, tucked into bed for the night, found it difficult to sleep for a long time. Her body was humming with excitement over what was to come the next day. Her father's plan to destroy Gotham was finally seeing light. Bane had done his job well, but there was still a long way to go until the end. She had to keep up appearances as Miranda Tate – something that was still necessary.

She tired of being in the social spotlight 24/7. She tired of being everything other than who she really was – the daughter of Ra's Al Ghul and heir to all he owned. It was only the promise of retribution that kept her going.

Despite all that was going on around her and the success of her plans, Talia found she hadn't lost all feeling in the deepest part of her heart. For a long time, she assumed there was only anger but a bittersweet surprise came to her from the most unlikely of places.

Being with Bruce Wayne every night was not what Talia pictured it to be. He wasn't nearly as detestable as the news made him out to be. In fact, she could almost consider him her equal. He had looks, intellect, money, discipline, a strong moral compass, power, and even trained under Ra's Al Ghul himself. They could've been an unstoppable force together, leading the League of Shadows. But he killed her father and vengeance had to come first. Honoring her father came before anything else. The fact that it was him who killed her father was her only regret.

Talia finally found someone who was worthy of her and all she offered and he made himself her enemy.

She settled down under the covers, pushing her thoughts of Bruce Wayne away, and turned out the light on her nightstand. Talia usually dreamt of her past: the pit, the League of Shadows, her father, her mother, Bane.

But this night was different. She looked forward to what the future held and was lulled to sleep by dreams of fire.


	9. Masks

Ch. 8

_**Safehouse, Gotham City, 16:43**_

Arthur unrolled the blueprints to the Plaza 51.

"Ivanov's already made reservations for us. We'll be splitting up before checking in, that way we'll be less noticeable. Yusuf you'll be going with Nadira. Eames and I will be paired up. Ariadne is in a penthouse on the 67th floor." He pointed to the fire escapes marked on the blueprint. "You need to memorize these routes in case something does happen."

The team was going over the first stages of the extraction when the door to the basement suddenly burst open. They all looked towards the sound and drew their weapons immediately.

There was a man at the door with an assault rifle in his arms. He was around 5'10 and stocky with short grey hair and a bushy mustache. His attire consisted of a worn leather jacket, black jeans and heavy brown boots. He had a rifle in hand and several pistols and a bandolier strapped to his torso.

They were ready to open fire until Arthur realized it was Ted Fields standing in the doorway.

"Ted - what are you doing," Arthur exclaimed, surprise giving way to anger. "We could've killed you!"

"You've got bigger problems to worry about than me coming down here unannounced," Ted responded, walking down the stairs towards them.

The team was incredulous. Ted usually spent his time in his chair watching Frasier re-runs, not stocking up on Winchester ammo. He was as mundane as a person could get. Arthur assumed that was why Ivanov brought them to him. Nobody would ever think to accuse a quiet, 50-something of anything.

It made sense now, looking at Ted. Hiding in plain sight. It was something Cobb used to do a lot, sometimes using Mr. Charles. Arthur could still remember the enthusiasm in his voice as he described the tactic to Arthur.

'_Ok, so you tell the subject they're dreaming, that someone's invaded their mind and then have them searching for the suspect. Most people are gonna panic at the thought of someone digging around in their heads. But that's where Mr. Charles comes in – he's the calm, reasonable voice telling them what they need to do. Then you convince the subject that their projections are the invaders, and get them to help you – the actual suspect – get your intel. Turning the dreamer against their own subconscious with the extractor at their right hand. It's genius, right?'_

It was a move Arthur absolutely hated but he was beginning to think there was something to the theory behind it after all.

"What are you doing," Arthur asked again.

"And _why_ do you look like you just stepped out of a Rambo reboot," Eames asked, eyeing all the weaponry on him.

"I'm your backup," Ted replied.

"Backup for _what_?" Arthur was completely confused. "Ivanov only brought us to you to hide."

"He might've only been using me as a base of operations but I don't think you boys have looked outside today. And you haven't been watching the news, that's obvious."

Ted gestured to the silent television set. "Let me clear things up for you. The masked man just released all the inmates from Blackgate Prison. There's looting, rioting, killing, rape – just about every crime you can think of - going on out there. He's got that bomb somewhere in the city, and his men blew out all but one bridge leading away from Gotham. I'm telling you right now, you're stuck and you're gonna need all the manpower you can get to save everyone."

The room was silent as the team took in what Ted just told them.

"Where are the police," Arthur asked. "Why aren't they doing anything?"

"Because they've all been trapped under the city." Everyone turned to the door where Ivanov was standing. "An informant of mine told me that all of the city's officers were lured underground and caved in there."

"Excellent…" Eames rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw, not believing the lack of thought it took to dispatch all of Gotham's officers underground.

"So there are _no_ cops at all," Nadira asked. "I don't understand how they could just send everyone to one spot."

"That's why martial law is in effect. There _is_ no other law," Ivanov stated. "The city is in absolute chaos. Also, Ted is on my payroll, just like the rest of you. He's mine to use however I see fit. So, use him – he's part of the team."

"He can't actually _participate_ in the extraction with us, Ivanov," Arthur ground out, becoming more and more irritated with all the interruption.

"Of course not – he's extra firepower," Ivanov responded. "His job is to keep you safe until the job is done. With all the hell that's broken loose, I thought bringing him along would be a smart thing to do."

"Don't worry, I'm perfectly capable," Ted responded. "I served 30 years in the US Army, been through the Gulf War, the Battle of Mogadishu and the Iraq War, 2 tours. I only retired 6 years ago."

"Alright. Yusuf, catch him up," Arthur said, waving Ted in his direction. "Ted will be with you and Nadira tonight. And we're leaving ahead of schedule, by the way. The extraction has to happen tonight." Yusuf took Ted upstairs to the dining room.

"How far ahead," Eames asked, frowning. He didn't like rush jobs. "I thought we were leaving tomorrow night."

Arthur looked down at his watch. "It's nearly five now. We need to be out of here no later than six. So get packed quickly."

* * *

_**Plaza 51, Gotham City, 19:50**_

"He wants us to meet up at a nightclub that doubles as a casino, of all places. You having a Turkish, son," Eames asked incredulously as he buttoned up a fitted off white dress shirt. "It's not like we'll be able to hear each other. Also, I'm sure it's gonna be dark. We won't be able to see anything and I can't guarantee I won't accidentally shoot you."

"It'll be harder for people to eavesdrop," Arthur replied, lacing up his patent leather Galliano dress shoes. "And it gets us away from the hotel. I think she's got eyes and ears all over the place. Ivanov thinks so too."

"But how do you know," Eames asked. "Maybe the man's just paranoid, thinking everyone's out to get him. There's also the fact that we all just watched Dr. Pavel die publicly. They were good friends and Ivanov is feeling guilty about losing the fusion reactor. You know, research shows that enough emotional distress can cause a person to lose their grip on reality in an attempt to cope."

"No, no…" Arthur shook his head and took on a pensive tone. "Actually, it was Ariadne who tipped me off."

Eames slipped on a vest and sat on one of two beds in the room. "How so?"

"She's usually open with me. She can talk about anything with me and she's usually happy to hear from me." Arthur frowned suddenly. "Now she sounds real uptight, you know? Like she doesn't want to say too much, but she has a lot to say. And a lot of times it's like she can't wait to get off the phone. I can't prove it, but my get is telling me something's really off."

"Alright," Eames conceded. "But, what – are we going to rendezvous on the dance floor, then?"

"I thought you were the leading authority on the life of a high roller," Arthur said with a smirk. "That's what VIP rooms are for."

Eames ignored the dig. "What about the men guarding the area? They could be spies."

"It's Ivanov's club. He bought it some time ago from Bruce Wayne. It's safe," Arthur said reassuringly.

Eames raised his eyebrows and nodded his head, impressed. "I've been there once, when Wayne owned the place. It was a restaurant – very nice; very exclusive. I had to buy my way in, and it wasn't cheap either."

Arthur put on his Armani dress jacket. "Well, let's go see what he's done with the place. Everyone'll be waiting for us."

* * *

The men flagged down a cab outside the Plaza 51. They got into the first available one that pulled up alongside them and before long they reached their destination. The nightclub was situated on the first floor of yet another high rise building.

The nightclub was emblazoned with a large black sign that read _**Carte Blanche**_ in white neon letters_**. **_There was a black awning in the entrance with gold poles for support and several bouncers congregated around the entrance in front of a long line of people waiting to get into the club.

Arthur began walking towards the back of the line when Eames reached over and yanked him by the arm to the front of the line.

"What are you doing," Arthur murmured. "You can't just jump to the front of the line."

"High rollers don't wait in line," Eames murmured back. "Just watch and learn."

Eames swaggered to the front of the line with Arthur in tow, where they were greeted by a bored looking ebony skinned bouncer who stood about 6'8 and had muscles bulging everywhere.

"Names," the bouncer stated in a dark, baritone voice.

Eames mentally calculated his chances of winning a fight against the man in front of him and then remembered that he was much more intelligent than people gave him credit for.

'_Arthur can take him if anything goes wrong,'_ he thought before gracing the bouncer with a dazzling smile.

"Yes, I'm Maxwell Maloney and this," he gestured towards Arthur, "is Carter Ponsby."

The bouncer checked the names on the list he carried and waved them through. Arthur and Eames walked through the front door and into a large dark room pulsing with energy and strobe lights.

The room was hot and humid from the people around them dancing to a pounding beat. Off to the far right of the dance floor was a large archway that led to the casino and bar. Arthur and Eames went in the opposite direction, towards a black spiral staircase.

"How did you know those names would be on the list," Arthur asked loudly, trying to be heard over the music.

"Ivanov told me," Eames answered, equally loud. "He didn't get the chance to tell you, so he just informed me, and I did the rest, Mr. Ponsby."

They made their way through the last of the crowd of people near the staircase and climbed up to the second floor. When they got to the second floor, they were greeted by the sight of heavily armed men standing in front of a set of double doors. Eames and Arthur glanced at one another briefly before walking up to the door and being granted access inside.

The room was dimly lit with a dark leather sectional in one corner, a bar near the doors, and several leather loveseats, benches and end tables scattered throughout the room. Everyone in the room was dressed to the nines.

Ivanov had his trademark black business suit, crisp white shirt and black tie. Ted wore a black tailored suit; very similar to Ivanov's, except his button up was also black and he had an expensive black high collared pea coat he was holding.

Eames did a double take when he saw Nadira. She looked statuesque in a white strapless dress with a very high slit on the right side of the dress that offset her skin beautifully and accentuated her legs, making them look as though they went on for miles. Her hair was tied back in an elegant bun and she wore only a small locket around her neck.

Out of the entire team, Arthur was most impressed by Yusuf, who looked completely out of character. For the evening, he had traded in his brown slacks and sloppy sweaters in favor of a fitted charcoal grey suit complete with a white dress shirt, a thin black tie, and black dress shoes.

"What's with all the muscle," Arthur asked as Ivanov looked up from his conversation with Ted.

"Precautions," Ivanov answered. "You can never be too careful. Now, everyone gather around. It's time to go over the last details. Arthur, start us off."

The team all sat on the sofas around a coffee table in front of Arthur.

"This is what we've been preparing for. All the work we've done for the last six months is for tonight. Ariadne is being watched closely, but I've kept in touch with her and she's given me the information we need. Now, Tate goes to sleep at about the same time every night. She'll let Ivanov know when she's asleep, he'll inform me, and I'll get everyone else. Ariadne will lace her drink with a sedative and when she's under she'll come and get us. Be dressed for recon and extraction and be ready to go. When you get in the penthouse, Yusuf, Eames, and Nadira will immediately begin set up. Nadira of course, is in charge of the PASIV, and Ted will be outside Talia's room, standing guard."

"And what about you," Yusuf asked Ivanov. "Where will you be?"

"I'll be on a separate floor," Ivanov answered, almost regretfully. "I would've enjoyed the opportunity to go along with you, but I can't take the chance of being recognized. I'll be waiting to hear the details – you won't be able to get a hold of me at all while you are doing the extraction. When you're done, clear out immediately and get back to your rooms. Don't speak to anyone besides your partner. Afterwards, I'll contact you all and we'll set up a time to meet. In the meantime, everyone lie low. It's now 9:45. We wait for Ariadne to make first contact. She should get with us in the next -,"

Ivanov was interrupted by the sounds of screams, tables and chairs being thrown around, and glass being broken. It was only after the first round of gunfire and more screams was heard that everyone drew their weapons.

"What is that," Yusuf asked nervously. "It sounds like a riot down there…"

"That's what it is," Ted said. "It's just finally caught up with this part of Gotham." He pulled his assault rifle from his bag while Nadira, grateful for the shooting lessons from Yusuf, pulled a Makarov PM from her handbag while feeling up her skirt on her thigh for the small dagger she brought with her. She then put on a black flared dress coat over her gown.

"I'm not one for sweet words, but I will say that a beautiful woman with a weapon… does something to me," Eames said to Nadira in a gravelly voice as he checked the magazine holster at his waist.

"Flowery BS right up until the end," Nadira responded with a little smirk.

"Not the end yet, sweetheart." Eames winked at her while pulling out the Jericho 941 semiautomatic he had in his shoulder holster.

"I hate to break this up, but it's time to go," Ivanov said, cocking his pistol. "You have your instructions. I'll be in touch."

With that being said, Ivanov was the first to leave the room followed by his men.

Everyone else scattered, sticking to their partners and made their way down the stairs. Ivanov's men were already downstairs fighting off the crowd of criminals that was looting the club. Arthur pulled out his weapon and he and Eames made their way downstairs after everyone else.

The Carte Blanche was deserted as Eames and Arthur made their way through the dark nightclub. The club, which only half an hour earlier, was teeming with life, was now dark and eerie.

The fact that the music was still playing set both men on edge. Outside the nightclub was just as bad. There were people running everywhere, chaos all around them. Cars had windows broken out and some were engulfed in flames.

Arthur and Eames made it back to the Plaza 51 which still hadn't seen any of the underbelly of Gotham. It ran just as smoothly as it did when the team left to meet one another.

Once in their room, they both traded their suits for dark tactical clothing.

"Just like old times, isn't it," Arthur asked, putting a thick jacket on. "Haven't had to deal with anyone this trigger happy since COBAL."

"Yeah," Eames responded quietly, already dressed to go. "Actually, I've been looking for an excuse to use the Jericho; it's been practically collecting dust."

Both men gave a halfhearted laugh which was cut short by the sound of Arthur's cell phone going off. He grabbed it and looked at it to see a text message.

Arthur got off the bed to gather up their portion of the gear. "Time to get moving."

Eames leapt off his bed and helped Arthur gather everything.

* * *

Arthur and Eames stepped out of the elevator on the 67th floor where they saw the rest of the team, still in club attire, waiting. The door to the penthouse opened and Ariadne poked her head out. She took in the sight of the large group in front of her and opened the door to let them in.

"Her room is upstairs, third door on the left," Ariadne said.

She began to follow the team and up the stairs when her phone went off. She looked at it and saw that it was Ivanov.

"Hello," she answered.

"Ariadne – give the phone to Arthur," Ivanov commanded.

"Arthur, it's Ivanov," Ariadne called out to Arthur while gesturing to the phone in her hand.

Arthur frowned and began to walk back down the stairs, meeting her halfway before taking the phone. "What's up," he asked.

"Put her in," Ivanov said on the other side of the line.

"I can't just change plans at the _last second_, Ivanov," Arthur said, angry that Ivanov had waited until the very last second to change things up. "We've spent six months preparing for this and you want to change everything now?"

"Arthur, you're gonna need her down there," Ivanov said. "She knows Talia better than any of you do. If Talia suspects anything, Ariadne will know immediately. She'll be the first to know. Trust me – you need her."

"What if she's recognized," Arthur asked.

"Don't worry, she won't be," Ivanov responded confidently. "She'll see to that. Trust her."

Arthur put his hand over his eyes before taking a deep breath. "She's in. I hope you know what you're saying." He pressed the end button and handed it back to Ariadne who was standing in front of Arthur for the entire conversation.

Arthur and Ariadne finished walking upstairs and reached Talia's room. Ariadne opened the bedroom door to let the rest of the team in, Ted shutting the door behind them. Talia was heavily sedated, unaware of the group of people standing over her.

Everyone began preparations for the extraction in silence. Yusuf hooked Talia up to the PASIV that Ted had brought before hooking himself up to it. Eames, Arthur and Ariadne all picked a comfortable spot to lie down and took a line, hooking themselves up as well. Nadira took her place next to the PASIV, hand near the button in the middle.

"You all ready," she asked.

Arthur looked around at his team for a second. Seeing that they were all ready and waiting, he looked back at Ted. "Ready," he said.

Nadira pushed the button and everyone was sent under.

* * *

There were people everywhere. That was the first thing Arthur noticed when he opened his eyes. They surrounded him, talking and laughing. Underneath the din of the revelers were the sounds of a quartet playing a baroque piece. Everyone was dressed up and dancing or mingling in a rather opulent version of Talia's foyer, complete with high vaulted ceilings, mirrors, and pillars around the edge of the room.

He walked past a large mirror and doubled back to take in his reflection. He wore a tuxedo with a black mask on his face, and his hair was still slicked back.

He turned towards the other people and saw that they all wore masks of different kinds. Arthur was standing in the middle of a masquerade. He realized that Ariadne chose a masquerade so that she could stay hidden from Talia. Then it hit him that she knew all along that Ivanov was going to send her into the field.

'_Very clever' _he thought, smiling to himself. He had underestimated her once again.

Arthur looked around the room and spotted Yusuf standing near the refreshments, wearing a white tuxedo shirt and jacket, with black slacks and a mask. Eames was near the entrance wearing a black three piece pinstripe suit, also with a mask.

Both men were milling around as though they had all the time in the world but Arthur knew their focus was in the same direction. He followed their line of sight and spotted Talia, who stood near the center of the room, dancing and laughing with several men while wearing a long white gown that went off one shoulder with a white mask.

Arthur kept looking around, waiting to spot Ariadne, but he didn't see her.

'_I'll see her soon enough,'_ he thought as he spotted a lone figure near the windows. He reached the projection and touched her shoulder.

"Excuse me…" he began. She turned to face him and his throat dried up.

"Ariadne," he said, voice cracking to his immense embarrassment. "You look…"

Ariadne didn't say anything, waiting for him to finish what he was going to say. She was wearing a slightly gothic looking, floor length black ball gown that was off the shoulder. It had black lace over top and was cinched in around her midsection, accentuating her tiny waist. Her hair was pulled back near the nape of her neck in a chignon, tendrils of hair loose around her face. She had a sparkling black mask over her eyes.

He had never seen her out of jeans, sweaters and scarves she constantly wore. But in her dress, Ariadne was so beautiful he was at a loss for words. He couldn't think straight about the mission or anything else, as a matter of fact. His mind went completely blank.

All he wanted to do was grab her and smash his lips against hers. He wanted to ravish her. He shook himself back to the present, where Ariadne was still waiting for him to finish what he was saying.

"… beautiful. You look stunning," Arthur said.

"Thank you," Ariadne replied, turning a becoming hue of pink. "You look good too."

"We should probably try blending in a little better," Arthur said after a beat of silence. He held his hand out to Ariadne. "Would you like to dance with me?"

She nodded shyly and took his hand. Arthur lead her out to one side of the foyer, wrapped one arm around her waist and took her hand in his other hand. They began to dance a medium tempo waltz along with the rest of the room, both of them silent. Ariadne was enjoying the feeling of him being in such close proximity when Arthur spoke.

"She doesn't suspect a thing, does she," he asked, studying Talia.

"I don't think she does," Ariadne answered looking up at Arthur. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, for one thing, none of her projections realize that anything is wrong. None of them notice us here," Arthur said while looking around the room. "She seems to be enjoying herself immensely. I was under the impression that she wasn't such an easy going person."

Ariadne looked over to where Talia was standing. 'Enjoying herself' had to be the understatement of the year. She was near the refreshments, Yusuf not far behind her, laughing loudly and talking with all the other – male - projections around her.

"She's as far from easy going as a person can get," Ariadne said. "This isn't the real her. That's Miranda Tate you're looking at."

Arthur watched Eames and Yusuf as they observed Talia and the other projections in the room. Everything seemed to be going well. As they glided with the music, Arthur's eyes moved from one projection to another, watching how they reacted with one another.

His gaze slid over a dark area of the foyer, near the windows when he saw something hidden in the shadows. There was a man, standing near one of the pillars. He was powerfully built and very tall. Most of the men in the room wore suits or tuxedos reminiscent of the Roaring Twenties – albeit a more updated version, but this man had on an outfit in which he resembled a musketeer.

He wore a pair of black breeches, white stockings, a black waistcoat and a white shirt and necktie. Like everyone else, he also wore a mask, but his was metallic looking. It was black and silver and it covered his entire face. Arthur couldn't see the man's eyes, but he swore that the man was looking straight at him and Ariadne.

Ariadne looked up and saw that Arthur's attention was elsewhere. He looked perturbed to her.

"Arthur, are you okay," she asked. She followed the direction of his gaze, but didn't see anything.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered. Arthur tried to take a closer look, but the man had disappeared. "I thought I saw something…" he murmured to himself.

"What was that," Ariadne asked. "I didn't hear what you said."

"Nothing," he said. "I didn't say anything."

Arthur took a look at his watch. "The unmasking at midnight is our signal to be ready to go – Nadira will start the musical countdown and two minutes after that, we'll be awake again. That gives us a little under half an hour as of now. Eames and Yusuf are dancing also, trying to find information. We need to switch up partners and do the same. Talk to them, Ariadne. See what the projections tell you. But be careful what you say. It's too easy to alert them to the fact that we're here. You remember what happened with Cobb the first time you went under."

"Yeah," Ariadne said, the memory of being stabbed to death by Mal's projection still fresh in her mind. "I don't want a repeat."

At that moment, all the dancers moved in unison and Ariadne found herself with a new partner.

* * *

_**Twenty five minutes later**_

Ariadne had switched dance partners five times and still hadn't learned something she didn't already know. She looked up at the clock and saw that it was two minutes to midnight.

'_I hope they had better luck than I did,'_ she thought hopelessly.

Ariadne switched partners one last time and looked up at the person in front of her. He was a tall man of medium build, and as far as she could tell, he was handsome. He wore an all white tux and had on a mask that was white with gold trimming around the top.

"Hello," Ariadne said with a smile as she twirled in circles with him.

"Hello," the man replied. "How are you enjoying the masque?"

"I'm having a great time," she responded. "What about you?"

"Same," he answered, smiling widely at Ariadne.

"So, uh, what do you like to do for fun," she asked, cringing inwardly. Who asked questions like that anymore?

"I like music, hanging out with friends, you know, the normal stuff," the man said. "What about you? You seem like someone that likes to go out every so often."

Ariadne laughed at that. "Oh no, no. I usually just work a lot. I mean, I did help a guy out once," she asked, beginning to truly enjoy talking with the projection. "He looked pretty hungry and I gave him some money for food. But it wasn't like, a charity case or something – he helped me out in return."

"Sounds interesting. How did you know he wouldn't just take the money and run?"

"I didn't. I just had to trust that he wouldn't, I guess."

"Hmm. I knew someone once who did the same thing once. They put their trust in someone they didn't know. I always say never put your trust in the unknown. You never know what could happen."

Ariadne's blood ran cold. She had heard those words before. She looked up at the man and saw that he was staring down at her, eyes gleaming behind the mask. He suddenly looked very familiar to her.

"John?" Ariadne was trying not to hyperventilate. Her internal warning signs were going off like crazy – something bad was ready to happen and there wasn't anything she could do to stop it.

"Bingo." He grinned and twirled her around.

"What are you doing here," she asked, hoping that someone would see her.

"Did I mention that along with music, I also like working," John said, tightening his grip on her. "I told you it was foolish to put your faith in people you didn't know."

"Working – what does that have to do with anything?"Ariadne looked around desperately, trying to locate Arthur, Eames or Yusuf.

She managed to untangle herself from him for a moment and tried to quickly get away from John. He reached out before she could get too far and grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully before yanking her once again towards him.

"Where're you going," he asked as he wrapped his arms fully around her, pinning her arms between his chest and her torso. John suddenly looked up as the large clock on the wall began to chime. "Midnight - time to unmask."

Everyone in the room took their masks off and started clapping and cheering. John ripped his mask off and reached out, tearing her mask off as well. Ariadne twisted in John's arms and saw Arthur, Eames, and Yusuf coming at her from different directions.

John shoved Ariadne away and pulled a gun out of his waistband. Before anyone could react, John aimed his weapon at Yusuf and shot him in the head, sending him back to the surface. Everyone in the room began to scream and run in different directions.

For Ariadne, the whole thing happened in slow motion and she could do nothing but stand and watch in horror. Arthur and Eames both reached for their guns but John was too fast.

He fired and shot Eames first, also sending him back. Arthur dodged his next bullet, but bumped into a projection that was running in the other direction. He turned around in time to be shot in the middle of his forehead. Then John turned towards Ariadne and looked at her for a moment.

"It's nothing personal," he said. "Just part of the job."

She turned away and tried to run. She heard the sound of his gun being fired, and then all she knew was darkness.

* * *

Ariadne opened her eyes. She was back in the penthouse, but something was very wrong. Yusuf, Arthur, Eames, Ted, and Nadira were all on their knees, guns held to their heads. Ariadne looked to her left where John was waking up. She looked down for a moment before she saw a heavy pair of boots appear in front of her. Ariadne looked back up and saw the masked man himself towering above her.

"I don't understand," Arthur said. "What's going on? Who are you people?"

Bane turned towards Arthur. "I am Gotham's Reckoning. We are the ones who will cleanse the world of all moral filth, starting with this hellhole. Thanks to this young woman," he gestured to Ariadne, "we now have a new weapon to do it with."

By this time, John was fully awake and standing next to Bane.

"What are you talking about," Arthur asked. "Ariadne – what's going on?"

"She didn't tell you, did she," John asked. "She did an extraction on Talia alone. I was the one who manned the PASIV."

Arthur was stunned into momentary silence. He looked over at her in disbelief. "Ariadne… you – you wouldn't do that. Tell me you didn't do this. This can't be real – you didn't do it… did you?"

Her silence was all Arthur needed to realize the truth in the words that were spoken.

"… How could you? How did you do it? _Why_ did you do it?

Yusuf shook his head. It all made sense to him now.

Ariadne began to cry. "I stole the PASIV from the safehouse. I did it the day I told you I wasn't feeling well." She paused and looked over at him, her eyes bright with regret. He stared back at her, still in denial.

"Arthur, I had to do something. I wasn't getting any information from her," she explained in a rush. "I didn't know what else to do. And I found him on the street. I thought he was homeless so -"

"– You _stole_ equipment," Arthur cut her off tonelessly. "You lied to all of us and tried to extract information on your own? _And_ you took a stranger off the street and let him in on this."

"Do you realize what you've done," he asked quietly, rage slowly building. "We were a team. Because you decided to act alone, you have put all of us – not to mention all of Gotham – in danger. You've killed us all."

"No, I'm sorry," Ariadne said, shaking her head, crying. "I didn't mean to…"

"Save it," Arthur spat as he and the rest of the team was hauled to their feet. "The mission is done."

As the team was dragged out, Ariadne sat back on her haunches, face in her hands, sobbing, "I'm sorry," over and over again.

"Barsad, take her away," Bane said, looking down at Ariadne. "Take her to my quarters."

Ariadne began to whimper and cry again as John reached down to yank her up by her arm. "NO," she screamed, clawing at Barsad, struggling to get away. "Get off! Get away from me!"

Bane sat down at the edge of Talia's bed watching her sleep as Ariadne's echoing screams faded away.

Talia's breathing was deep and her chest rose and fell with its even, pharmaceutically controlled inhalations and long exhalations. Bane looked down at Talia's serene face in sleep and raised his hand to hover over the smooth skin of her face. His rough fingertips barely grazed the tender skin of her closed eyelids before he withdrew his hand and rose from the edge of the bed.


	10. Underground

Ch. 9

_**Gotham City Sewers, 23:30**_

"Oof!"

Ariadne landed hard on a medium sized cot covered with a scratchy blanket. She whipped around to glare at John who had flung her there.

"So you do thug work for a living. 'Nothing personal,' right?"

"You're just the means to an end," John replied, voice clear of any emotion. He sounded almost as mechanical as his master. "The mission is all that matters. Nothing else."

He turned around and left, to Ariadne's immense relief. She readjusted herself and sat in the middle of the cot. She drew her knees up to her chest, taking her first good look around. There was a table next to the cot which had maps and papers scattered everywhere.

Ariadne noticed a soft blue glow on the blanket around her and turned to look at the wall behind her. The wall was lined with large plastic trunks, for what, Ariadne couldn't begin to guess. In front of the bed and table was a large space.

To the left was an archway which was the entrance to the room. On the right, Ariadne found the source of the thundering sound she'd heard earlier. There was a railing with a waterfall beyond that. The place looked and smelled like a sewer, but Ariadne couldn't be sure of exactly where she was.

At first she was glad to be left alone, but as each hour passed, she grew increasingly uncomfortable. It was too quiet. She had nothing to distract her from the pain and guilt that began to eat at her insides.

Ariadne thought it was funny how a good intention could ruin a whole experience. She wished she could redo that month. If she had to do it again, she would have just confessed to Arthur that she was having trouble getting anything from Talia.

He would have found a way to help her. Ariadne just wanted to see what she could do on her own. Arthur was all about the team. As long as she had known him, he was about teamwork. Everyone was open with one another and worked together. But he was so _busy_ as of late. He had no time for anyone or anything.

She didn't know how much time had passed since John left, but the entire time she was alone, all she could think about was what she did and what that meant for everyone. Tears started coursing down her face as she thought of every alternate avenue she could've taken to get the information. All the things she could've done, probably should've done. The thoughts grew louder as Ariadne lay down on the cot in a fetal position. She closed her eyes, trying to will herself out of existence.

"I've known several people who sleep best after a kill," a resonant voice spoke tauntingly. "Are you one of them?"

Ariadne's eyes snapped back open. Fear threatened to overwhelm her as she took in the owner of the voice she had heard. He was beyond massive. The man had to be at least three times her size. Ariadne had no doubt that he could kill on a whim and suspected that he probably did. His gaze was strangely clinical, almost detached, as he watched her. The mask he wore hid any humanity he might've had underneath.

"What do you want," Ariadne demanded, trying not to show fear.

"You possess knowledge that would be of great use to us," Bane said, getting straight to the point. "Your intellect and training in your profession is just one of many attributes that are something to be desired. You lack discipline, but I can fix that. We can train you."

"Liar," Ariadne hissed back at him, fear forgotten. "You just want to destroy everyone. I don't buy all that 'cleansing the world' crap. You'll just use me for whatever you need and then kill me like the others."

Bane stood up straight and turned around to walk towards the ledge. Ariadne took that moment to summon all the speed she possessed and flew off the cot. Before she could get five feet however, she felt a powerful hand wrap itself almost entirely around her right arm and painfully yank her backwards. She crashed to the concrete floor feeling as though her arm had been torn out of its socket. She scrambled back to her feet and tried again. This time Bane kicked her in the right leg with his steel toed boot. Ariadne cried out in pain and crumpled to the ground.

Bane stood over top of her for a moment before he reached down and picked her up by her left arm. He tossed her back onto the cot and hunkered down next to it, watching the rage bubble up in her.

She glared at him, trying to get her pain under control, before speaking again. "You would use what I know against Gotham. Against the people."

"We would," he answered honestly.

'_Monster,'_ Ariadne thought, disgust evident on her face as she eyed the device on the man's face.

She didn't know what he used it for, but she knew it had to be something important; perhaps something vital to his health.

Ariadne was never one for foolish, dramatic, daring actions - that was Cobb's department. So it was a strange mixture of anger, despair, and desperation boiling over that momentarily robbed her of the ability to think rationally before acting. Despite the burn in her right arm, she swung her arm up in an attempt to claw at Bane's mask without considering the consequences of such an action. He quickly moved before she could dislodge one of the tubes that kept up the flow of analgesic gas from the mask to his body.

Before she could take another swipe at his mask, Bane reared his head back, away from her fingers and finally backhanded her. The room grew still as she crumpled to the ground.

She was brave, for someone so much smaller than he was, to try fighting back. Grown men wouldn't dare_ think_ about doing what she did. She was spirited; very foolish, but spirited. Bane liked that. If he could break the Batman, surely he could break anyone. Still, he would call himself a liar if he didn't admit she would be difficult to deal with.

'_A welcome challenge,'_ he thought, staring down at her unconscious form.

* * *

Eames looked around the area the team was being held in. It was a dark opening with tunnel entrances all around them; five leading in different directions. Yusuf, Ted and Nadira were all sitting silently, each biding their time.

He looked over at the point man who was sitting calmly like everyone else, but something was off. Eames was excellent at reading people. He could usually tell long before anyone else how Arthur was feeling, but at the moment he looked strangely empty. For once, Eames couldn't read Arthur and that scared him.

"Say, how long do you think we've been down here," Eames asked Arthur, in an attempt to bring him out of his own thoughts.

"I honestly couldn't tell you," Arthur responded in a monotone voice.

Eames wasn't one to worry very often but he suddenly felt unease settle in like a stone in the pit of his stomach. It turned into dread when he realized that Ariadne was not brought along with them. Bane had her put in a separate location.

He didn't miss the way Bane had studied her. He was sure that Bane was going to use her to further his cause; he just wasn't sure how.

He looked over at Ted, who also had not said much. Eames knew he was watching and waiting, looking for a way out. He heard footsteps and turned to see two armed men coming from one of the corridors on their left. The men walked past them and rounded up two other men who were sitting with them. It was not lost on the team members that the number of men that were held captive with them had dwindled in the recent hours.

There were ten other men when they first arrived. Now there were only two left, not including the other two that were just rounded up. Eames knew from whispers around Gotham that unless Bane had a direct need or use for you, you could count on being killed. He didn't keep prisoners.

The rumors rang true in the form of a gun going off. They heard a commotion coming from the dark corridor on the left. There was a lot of yelling, feet scuffling, someone begging to be spared, then the deafening sound of several rounds being fired, then silence.

Eames looked at Arthur and Yusuf, both of whom were looking back at him.

"I think I have a way to get us out of here," Ted said, breaking the silence.

Ariadne was on the edge of consciousness and already she registered pain. She could feel it everywhere, but the majority was concentrated in the entire right side of her face, and her whole head. She gingerly touched her face, eyes still closed.

"Hello Lola," Ariadne heard a woman say. "Or perhaps I should call you Ariadne?"

Ariadne knew that voice as well as she knew her own. She was familiar with the cultured accent and dulcet tones that accompanied it as well. She opened her eyes and sat up slowly, fighting dizziness from lying down for so long. Talia Ducard sat in a chair, not three feet away from Ariadne, smiling at her.

"You are looking well," Talia said mildly, cutting through Ariadne's thoughts.

Ariadne didn't respond to that. She didn't have a mirror, but she could feel the dirt and blood on her face and all the knots in her hair. She had large, ugly bruises forming all over her pale skin and stank of sweat and fear. Ariadne was a mess and she knew it.

Talia, on the other hand, looked stunning. Her shoulder length hair curled around her face and her makeup only served to accentuate her beauty. She was wearing a brown tweed blazer with a scarf around her neck. Talia wore jeans that complimented her toned body and brown genuine leather knee high boots. Talia smelled good. Ariadne didn't know what she was wearing, but she knew that the perfume had to be expensive.

"What are you doing here," Ariadne finally asked. "Were you captured too?"

"I'm here of my own free will," Talia responded. "I work with Bane."

"I don't understand. What do you and Bane have to do with one another? You know he's going to kill everyone," she said. "I thought you wanted to help people; improve Gotham. Did he force you? Miranda Tate was all about trying to improve the lives of Gotham's citizens. Why are you working with that monster?"

Talia laughed softly. "You are confusing me with my alias. Yes, Miranda Tate worked for the people of Gotham. Her interest was helping to provide free energy, charity work, feeding the poor, things like that. But I am Talia Ducard. I see the bigger picture. Handouts have done nothing but help this cesspool to survive. I will stamp the life out of this miserable city."

Ariadne was horrified with what she was hearing. "What about the innocent? Families, children… they'll all die!"

Talia stood up, walked over to Ariadne and sat next to her on the cot.

"So what," Talia asked, her warm, gentle voice contradicting the cold words coming from her mouth. "Nobody will miss this vermin. They are nothing compared to the final plan. My only interest is doing my father's work. We will cleanse the world of all moral filth."

"You know, I heard Bane say the exact same thing," Ariadne said, not bothering to hide her disgust any longer. "'Cleanse the world of all moral filth.' You can't try cleansing anything until you yourself are clean, and your hands have blood on them. You are no better than anyone else in Gotham. In fact, I think you're worse because you're doing this under the guise of being a good person, wanting to help people."

"Bane says Gotham will survive," Talia continued as though Ariadne had not spoken. "This is what he tells the people. But, they will only survive long enough for me to eradicate the rest." She suddenly grabbed Ariadne's face tightly. "And just so you know, Bane obeys _me._ He is a dear friend, but _I_ call the shots, not him."

Talia released Ariadne's face roughly. She was still smiling, there was no warmth or kindness in her face.

Ariadne shook her head in horror and denial. "Vermin? They're innocent human beings! You want to murder a whole city for your cause. How is that moral? You really wouldn't show any mercy for these people?"

Talia stroked Ariadne's cheekbone, almost lovingly. "You're so young, so idealistic. You've probably been spoiled your whole life. But this is a war. I do what I must. Nobody showed me any leniency. Bane was the only one who showed me any kindness or mercy. But you should know. You witnessed that firsthand."

Talia delivered a stinging slap to the bruised side of Ariadne's face and walked towards the entrance of Bane's room.

Ariadne looked up at Talia through the sudden pain and teared up, realizing too late how everything fit together. It all made sense now. The unlocked door. Miranda's sudden trust in her. John always being outside the Plaza 51. It was too easy. Everything clicked with Ariadne and it made her want to scream. She had _truly_ failed the team and doomed Gotham.

Talia looked at the girl sitting on the cot, crying and clutching her beaten face. She looked so weak, the sight made Talia want to hurt her even more.

"You know," she said to Ariadne in a blasé tone, "I much preferred you as Lola to this pathetic display. She might not have said much, but it was more agreeable than all this whining and sniveling. Nobody likes a beggar. I'm certain the young man you work with would agree with me. His name is Arthur, isn't it?"

Ariadne looked up at Talia sharply.

"Ah yes," Talia said, eyes gleaming. "You didn't think I would just let a _personal_ employee of mine go gallivanting around Gotham without know where they were going, did you? Visiting your grandparents… I give your _real_ employers an 'A' for the idea, but an 'F' for execution. And don't worry, we will find out who they are, and destroy them as well."

She glanced back down at Ariadne who had gone completely white at the mention of Arthur. "He's the leader of your team, isn't he? The man in charge? When we find your team, we'll make an example out of them publically. And I'll start with him. What do you think?"

Ariadne was breathless and shaking with rage knowing there was nothing she could do to help her team or warn Arthur. Talia turned and walked out of the room, leaving Ariadne to choke on her anger.

* * *

"One more to go, then they'll be coming for us next," Ted murmured.

The team watched as the pair of armed men escorted the last of the two prisoners left before them out of the area.

"Yes, we know," Yusuf whispered back, trying to hide his nerves. He caught sight of one the guards ambling back towards them. "Eames, it's your go."

Mitch Ransom had had enough. Bane promised him and his comrade, Logan Holly, a chance to do some real work with the top notch mercenaries.

So far, the only work they got was a job taking out the trash in a cold, stinking tunnel. Mitch and Logan had talked about escape, but they both knew it would never happen. Once you got in with Bane's army, there was no leaving. At least not _alive_ anyway.

'_Only five more to go, then we're done,'_ Mitch thought.

He stood in one of the archways by the group of men and waited for Logan to finish up with the other prisoner. Mitch kept his hand on the rifle he held, but his mind began to wander. He didn't see one of the men from the group getting up to walk towards him until the man was about ten feet away.

Mitch ran his trigger hand across his rifle as a silent warning to the man approaching, but to no avail. The man kept walking. Actually, he was staggering quite a bit.

"'Scuse me," the man slurred with a thick British accent. "You got a toilet around here? Gotta go…"

"If you know what's good for you, you'll go and sit back down," Mitch said to him in a low growl.

"Seriously though," the man continued, completely oblivious, "I, uh, I was drinking… a lot with me mates – and so," he grinned sheepishly at Mitch and hiccupped, "you know, I gotta get to the little lads' room."

'_I hate this job,'_ Mitch thought with an inward sigh. _'And where is Logan? What's taking him so long?'_

"Someone had better get over here and get this moron before I blast him away," he called out to the group of men.

Another man quickly walked over and grabbed him. This one was dark skinned; an Indian more than likely.

"I apologize," he said to Mitch. "He's had quite a few drinks. We'll keep him quiet."

Mitch just grunted and turned to walk away before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the man tugging at him, while the Indian tried to pull him away.

"Get off…," Eames said, speech still garbled.

"No, you have to let go – you heard what he said," Yusuf explained more urgently. "Come; let's go sit back down before he shoots us all, ok?"

"No, I don't think so. He's bang out of order, he is," Eames said drunkenly. He pushed Yusuf away and slung an arm around Mitch's neck. "Listen just… be a good lad and let go to the bleedin' bathroom, alright?"

While Eames was hanging all over Mitch with Yusuf trying to tug him off, Nadira, Arthur and Ted converged around the trio.

Mitch couldn't believe the nerve of this guy. Sure he was drunk, but the sight of a gun usually sobered a man up pretty quickly. Temper rising dangerously, he dropped his rifle without realizing it and grabbed Eames roughly by the collar of his shirt. "Look you little shi -"

He stopped talking when he felt the barrel of his rifle in the back of his head. He turned slightly, Eames shirt still bunched up in his fists, and saw one of the other prisoners, a young man with dark brown hair and eyes, pointing his own weapon at him.

He felt someone tugging at his belt. He looked back and saw the drunken man take his keys. He suddenly looked stone cold sober. Mitch slowly let go of Eames' shirt and put his hands up in surrender.

"You should've just let me go the bathroom," Eames said with a smirk on his face and no slur in his voice.

Arthur ushered Mitch towards the wall where Eames was waiting to tie and gag him.

"Hey Mitch, sorry I took so long, but I got us some help. We can finish quickly and…" Logan and the three men he enlisted to help take care of the group stopped walking and took in the sight of Mitch being held up.

There was a moment's pause before chaos broke out.

"SOUND THE ALARM," Mitch yelled before being punched in the face by Eames.

The other men rushed towards the commotion, but not fast enough. Logan sprinted towards a grey box in the wall, ripped open the little door and pushed a button. The air was filled with the sound of a piercing siren going off. Nadira managed to grab a gun from one of the men and was the first to fire.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," Arthur yelled to Eames over the sound of the siren as he fought off another guard. "This was NOT part of the plan!"

Eames let loose a hearty laugh while tying an unconscious Mitch to a pipeline. "That's the great part about this job! It's the little surprises that keep you sharp and on your toes. In the words of the _beautiful_ Rudi Bakhtiar, 'spontaneity -'" Eames paused to kick Mitch closer to the wall, "- 'is the spice of life.'"

"Who's that," Nadira asked while fighting off yet another guard.

Eames walked up and put her attacker in a sleeper hold. "She is an Iranian-American journalist, and the subject of many of my fantasies. I – Oof! Stubborn bugger - spent several years watching CNN for a glimpse of her. The news was a tease for me, and she was – here, but him down - and still is, quite the vixen," Eames finished his explanation with a seductive purr, accompanied by slight panting from rendering a man unconscious.

"Actually, she's quite a good journalist, looks aside," he added. "I really liked listening to her reports. She was very informative."

"Yes, I'm sure. Pig." Nadira was strangely displeased with Eames' tone. She tried not to think about the fact that he was talking about another woman.

"Guys, stop flapping your lips, we gotta go," Ted yelled as he gestured towards the archway Logan came from.

The team stopped what they were doing and looked up to see more guards pouring from the archway.

"Eames," Arthur yelled, "You got the keys, right?"

"Got them," he answered, holding up Mitch's keys.

The team ran through an archway on the opposite side of the space they were held captive in. They all sprinted down the dank corridor, chased by a stampede of guards with weapons. Nadira, who was leading the group, suddenly turned a sharp right into a tight space and pulled Ted into it. The other men crammed in the space and stayed mute as the stampede charged past them.

"Ok guys," Arthur said, "We gotta look for Ariadne. Unfortunately, none of us know where to go."

"Actually, I believe I know where she's being held at," Eames said, looking at Arthur. "On our way out of Talia's room, I heard Bane tell Barsad to take her to his quarters."

Arthur closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He could only imagine what that monster would do to her.

"I heard the guards talking about a guest in the restricted section," Eames continued. "I'm sure that's where his room is, but I just don't know where that's at."

"It's in the fourth quadrant of the sewers," Ted said. The rest of the team looked at him. "I overheard that Mitch fellow talking to the other one about the fourth quadrant. He talked too much and too loud for his own good. I used to be a construction worker down here, so I'm sure we could find it easily."

"Alright, alright," Arthur cut in impatiently. "How do we find the fourth quadrant?"

"Right here," Eames answered, grinning. He held up Mitch's keys. Attached to the keys was a tiny map of the sewers.

"Boy, you think these criminals would be a little smarter," Ted murmured. "Just like putting the combination of a safe _next to the safe_. And the people of this generation think they're so much more intelligent that their elders…"

"Ted, you'll have to lead the way," Eames said. "I'm positive none of us know how to read this map."

The team moved quickly and quietly through the sewers undetected with Ted leading the way.

About half an hour later, Ted broke the silence. "Ok, we're in the fourth quadrant."

The team couldn't tell. The corridors all looked the same to them; all cold, dirty and damp.

"How can you tell," Yusuf asked.

"Well, for one, if you listen closely, you'll hear water running. The fourth quadrant runs into the Gotham Reservoir which empties into the East River," Ted said. "Also, I don't know if you've noticed, but there are way more guards here than any other part of the sewers."

"The reservoir runs into several places though. Where exactly is 'here,'" Arthur asked. "He brought us in blindfolded."

Ted thought for a moment before answering. "My guess would be somewhere underneath Cobble Hill."

"That far," Eames questioned. "What makes you think that?"

"The reservoir empties in both Cobble Hill and near the Narrows. The Plaza 51 is closer to the Narrows. Approximately ten minutes. Cobble Hill is a twenty minute drive. We were being driven for almost twenty minutes. I counted," Ted explained. "So, if I'm correct in my thinking, we bust out of here, we'll actually get back to the Plaza 51 quickly. Unfortunately, headquarters is Midtown, in West Side. Pretty far away. But, we can blend in and disappear. That's the good thing about Gotham. There are a lot of places to hide."

Arthur rubbed his hand over his face. "Alright. For now, let's just move as a group to find her. We don't know where we are, and we only have one map. Ted, lead the way. Yusuf, Nadira, stay up by Ted. Eames, cover me."

The team moved quickly and quietly through the corridor, ducking out of sight whenever a guard would walk past. Soon, they came to a very dark corridor with eight doors, four on either side. Arthur signaled for the team to split up. Eames, Yusuf and Ted on one side, Arthur and Nadira on the other side. The first two rooms were empty. Yusuf opened the second door on his side and ran into another group of guards. The guards all jumped up and rushed Yusuf. He tried shutting the door, but the men pried it open.

"Arthur, keep looking," Eames yelled as they all began to fight once again.

Nadira looked back and saw Ted struggling with a guard. She thrust the key at Arthur and ran to help Ted.

Arthur opened the remaining doors as the rest of the team fought off the guards in the hall. Ariadne wasn't in any of the rooms. He left the last room and looked to his left. There was another door. He looked back at his team and quickly ducked through the door. He walked down a flight of stairs right behind the door.

Arthur couldn't hear anymore of the fighting, but he could hear rushing water. Encouraged, he followed the sound until he came to a very large archway. He stepped through and saw a railing with a waterfall beyond it. On his right, he saw a desk with papers scattered everywhere. Behind that was a small cot, and on the cot was Ariadne sitting with her head on her knees. He couldn't believe his eyes. Arthur was scared that she was dead.

"Ariadne," he cried out, relief thick in his voice.

Ariadne looked up from where she was sitting in disbelief. "Arthur! How did you find me? Where is everyone else? Does he know you're here?"

Arthur stopped short when he saw her face. She was bruised all over her face, but her right eye was the worst. It was swollen and had a nasty cut underneath it. Her lips were chapped and swollen as well.

He could tell she had not eaten for some time. She looked fragile. Completely broken. The weight of his anger actually took his breath.

Arthur had to compose himself a moment before he could speak. Who would dare touch Ariadne like that? Who could raise a hand to her? Arthur swore in that moment, that he would kill Bane, no matter what it took.

"Ariadne – did he…?"

"What? Oh, no, _God no_," Ariadne answered hastily. "Arthur he was asking me questions about -"

The sound of approaching footsteps grabbed his attention.

"- We have to go," Arthur interrupted urgently. He gently stroked her cheekbone with one hand and her hair with the other to reassure her. "We have to get out of here before they come back."

"I have to tell you something, it's important -"

"- It's gonna have to wait – someone's coming. Come on, I'll help you up. We have to go _now._"

Ariadne shook her head and teared up. "I can't Arthur. I can barely walk. I'll just slow you down. Go. Before he comes back. Just go. Please. I don't want to see you get hurt." She grabbed his hand and squeezed before removing it from her face.

Arthur looked down at her right leg and saw that it was entirely red and purple. "It's ok Ariadne. I'll carry you. We just have to leave."

Ariadne finally nodded after a moment and let Arthur help her off the cot. They made their way out of Bane's quarters and back up the stairs, slowly. Arthur opened the door and found the team waiting on them. Ariadne was so glad to see everyone, she couldn't help but to cry again. The group, led by Ted, made their way to the surface.

"I found it," Ted exclaimed. "Here's the door to the surface!"

Everyone began to walk quickly towards it but they were intercepted by another round of guards.

"Geez, how many of these guys does he have," Yusuf asked while grabbing one and kicking him.

"There's a reason they call them _Bane's Army_," Ted said, also fighting off a guard.

After a few minutes, the team successfully fought of all the men that opposed them. Everyone ran towards the opening. Arthur went ahead of Ariadne so he could pull her up the ladder. She began to climb as best as she could and as Arthur reached for her, Barsad appeared out of nowhere and pulled her back down.

Arthur jumped back down to try and grab Ariadne. Three more guards came and surrounded Arthur while Barsad began to drag Ariadne away. Eames and Ted began to climb back down the ladder.

The men began to grab Arthur when Barsad turned around. "Not him! We need the chemist. Grab the Indian man."

"No," Arthur shouted. "Leave them alone! Take me instead!"

"We have to go Arthur," Eames yelled.

More men were coming into the already cramped space. He grabbed Arthur's arm and pulled with all his might.

"_Stop_," Eames said quietly. "We need you. She's gonna need you to stay alive. Live today so that you can fight tomorrow."

The team escaped while the guards below swarmed all over Yusuf and dragged him into the sewers. Eames thought he could hear Ariadne screaming all over again. It was a sound he wouldn't ever forget.


	11. Refuge

Ch. 10

Eames reached ground level behind the rest of the group and saw several mercenaries running at them from all directions with assault rifles, firing at will. The team sprinted for cover and ran for several minutes until they reached an abandoned dumpster. Everyone jumped in, closed the lid and stayed put until the sound of gunfire receded into the distance.

"What are we gonna do," Nadira whispered, panic in her voice. "Where are Yusuf and Ariadne?"

"We had to leave them," Eames answered, still breathing heavily from their run. His breath was visible in the bitter cold air. "Arthur, they'll be looking for us now. Where do we go? It's too far to get back to the safehouse right now."

Arthur didn't answer, looking numbly at the papers and boxes that surrounded them in the dumpster.

"We need to split up," Ted stated after a moment of terse silence. "We're too big of a group to travel together – it'll be easier for them to track us down. Around 6 tonight, meet me at The Honey Pot."

"What's that," Nadira asked.

"It's a brothel in the Narrows," Eames answered. "What time is it now?"

"Judging by the sun, I'd say a little after 4," Ted replied after lifting the dumpster lid a fraction and looking up at the sky for confirmation.

"Who's going with who," Eames asked.

"Eames, you're with Nadira. Arthur's coming with me," Ted answered.

Moments later, Ted and Arthur jumped out of the dumpster after taking a quick look around. Eames lifted the lid and watched as they quickly disappeared around a corner.

"We should go now, right," Nadira asked.

"No, we have to wait a minute," Eames answered. "Give them some distance."

Nadira sat silently, listening hard for any footsteps coming their way.

"Time to move," Eames said after nearly ten minutes.

He raised the lid and peered out of the dumpster. Seeing that the area around them was clear, Eames nodded to Nadira and the two hopped out and took off.

Against all odds, they were able to avoid detection and managed to get to The Honey Pot just as the sun was beginning to set.

"Was this easier to do in the dream world," Nadira asked, sweaty and exhausted from running so far.

"No, not really. But then we train a lot," Eames said. Nadira noticed with envy that Eames had hardly broken a sweat and was breathing normally while she was on the verge of a heart attack. "You never know what'll come up in the future. Best to be prepared, I say."

Nadira looked at the building with distaste. It was a four story building that looked like a rundown townhouse. The neon red sign was lit – they were open for business - but it was blinking on and off and it was crooked. The Honey Pot had seen better days.

"Do we have to go in there," she asked. "I can practically smell the clap from here – ow, Eames, you're hurting me -"

Eames roughly grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards the red door where there was an older woman waiting for them.

"You're standing right in the middle of the street where anyone can see you. I didn't walk all this way so we could get shot."

Eames released his iron grip on Nadira's arm when they reached the woman at the front door. She was slight in stature with jet black hair pulled back into a soft bun and deep wrinkles in her face.

Although she wore garish makeup around her ocean blue eyes and was well past her prime, Nadira could tell instantly that this woman was once an extraordinary beauty. She was still beautiful, but the toll of the industry she slaved away in was evident in her appearance.

"Delilah," Eames called out brightly. "Fancy seeing you again! I've missed our time together. How have you been?"

"Oh Mr. Eames, you aren't the only one," Delilah responded in a soft but raspy voice, brought on by years of smoking. "I've been as well as can be expected. Girls coming and going; it's all the same really. I haven't seen you since you last dropped in on me. I wanted to say again, thank you for the good time. I was so glad we could sit and talk awhile. It was so much fun catching up!"

Eames graced her with an inviting smile. "The pleasurewas all mine."

"You naughty boy," Delilah exclaimed slapping him away while giggling girlishly. "We can play another time. Your colleagues are inside waiting for you. I trust you remember the way."

Eames and Nadira went into the brothel and up the first flight of stairs. She was surprised to find that the inside was very clean and well decorated.

Nadira followed Eames until he reached a door on the left side of the hall. They went in and saw Ted, Arthur and Yusuf sitting on a red and black crushed velvet couch drinking what looked like rum and Coke.

"I see you made it in one piece," Ted commented.

"Would've been easier if we had a gun to work with," Eames responded.

Delilah opened the door and let a woman into the room. She smiled at them and quickly closed the door behind her.

The woman, presumably a worker, was very tall with broad shoulders and a lean frame. She was had a dark tote bag on her arm and wearing a slinky black cocktail dress under a dark puffy coat with a fur trimming around the hood. She had curly blond hair.

"Madam… I think you have the wrong room," Eames said, after giving her a once-over.

"Придурок - it's _me_," the woman replied in an alarmingly masculine voice after ripping off the blond wig.

"You know, for a decent looking guy, you make a God awful ugly woman," Ted observed, narrowing his eyes in concentration on Ivanov's face. "I'm not even sure any of the lifers from Blackgate would take you out for a spin - and those boys don't say no to much of anything."

"I rather like the dress," Nadira commented with a cheeky grin, crossing her legs.

"Where've you been," Ted asked, getting down to business. "We've been waiting here forever. And _why_ are you dressed like a two cent hooker?"

"I am Alexander Ivanov, one of the richest men in Gotham, the US, and the world," Ivanov said. "You don't think Bane isn't looking for me too? Despite all my efforts, I was spotted here a few weeks back by several people. Word on the streets is that anyone with money's got a price on their head. Nobody can find Bruce Wayne. They have all the other board members and most of the wealthy citizens in Gotham. I was hoping to slip by in all the chaos. Unfortunately, my presence has been missed but they haven't found the safehouse yet. I've moved my parents just in case though. I can't risk Bane finding them. Ted sent word through Delilah to me. This…," Ivanov gestured to his attire, "was the only way I could get here without being discovered."

"I don't see why you're so upset," Eames said in a teasing tone. "It doesn't look bad at all."

"I was propositioned by an old drunk on my way here," Ivanov hissed. "Enough – tell me what happened. Why did you fail? And where are Ariadne and Yusuf?"

Ivanov took his tote bag and stepped behind a partition in the corner of the room to change as the members of his team proceeded to tell him about the failed extraction. A few minutes later he came back out dressed in dark, tactical winter clothes, matching the attire of rest of the team.

"So what do we do now," Eames asked Ivanov after they let him in on the events of the last day and a half.

Ivanov rubbed his head. He wasn't sure what to do anymore. His men were being taken out and most of his sources and contacts were outside of Gotham. He was cut off in every way and couldn't get to his money or anything else he needed.

"I need time to think," Ivanov said somberly. "Before we make any decisions, everything has to be taken into account. I'm running out of manpower and funds, thanks to Bane, and we're all running out of time."

"Let's go," Ted said to the group suddenly.

"Go where," Ivanov asked frowning at Ted.

"You'll have to trust me," Ted answered, standing up and walking to the door. He opened the door and began to walk towards the stairs before looking back at the team. "This is part of that plan I mentioned earlier. Come on, what're you all waiting for?"

The rest of the team followed Ted downstairs and looked on while he talked in low tones to Delilah. They both looked at everyone before she slowly nodded her head.

Ted led everyone to the docks along with two armed men Delilah sent to accompany them. The men took them all to a small speedboat and everyone piled in. The boat ride was close to an hour long, but it seemed much longer seeing as how they were travelling in almost complete darkness.

Eames thought it was easy to forget about the destruction of Gotham during the ride. He couldn't see any of the detritus from the bridges or smell anything burning for a change. In his mind, it was just him in a boat, bobbing over the waves, feeling the salty spray of ocean water on his face. The frigid air combined with the cold water should have frozen him, but instead he felt invigorated and reenergized.

Nadira spent her time wondering whether or not they would be spotted. If they were, they would definitely be shot on sight.

During the whole ride, nobody spoke a word. Eventually, the men let them off at a small rickety dock, not far from one of the bridges Bane's men blew up. After everyone gingerly stepped over the rotting wood and made it safely onto land, Ted began to walk again in silence and the team followed.

In the distance, they could see a large mansion looming on the horizon. Everyone was surprised to see that it was lit up – the rest of Gotham had no power.

"Wait a second," Eames muttered to himself, "this looks like Wayne Manor."

The mansion was built as a monument to the Renaissance age. It was made with a light colored brick and boasted several towers and large windows. The manor sat on a gentle hill with where it could see and be seen. Ted climbed the stone stairs up the hill until he got to level ground then walked right up to the main entrance and rang the bronze doorbell, setting off a series of musical sounding peals that echoed in the main foyer.

After a moment of waiting, the door opened and an older gentleman in a suit appeared in front of the team. His eyes widened at the sight of the group standing in front of him.

"Ted, is that you," the man asked with a Cockney accent. "It's been ages. I've wondered what's happened to you!"

"It's been a long time Alfred," Ted responded with a huge smile. "Everyone, this is Alfred Pennyworth. He's an old friend and colleague of mine. Alfred is a former IBA operative."

"IBA," Eames repeated. "You mean the International Bureau of Antiterrorism? The intelligence agency?"

"Yeah," Ted responded.

"I don't understand - what does the IBA have to do with us? With extraction?"

"It has everything to do with it," Alfred answered. "The IBA has different departments, like cyber security, homeland security, port security, foreign intelligence, things like that. We worked in the subconscious security sector."

After a beat of silence, Alfred sighed and opened the massive door wide. "Come in, we've got a lot of explaining to do. We might as well do it over dinner."

Alfred brought the team into the Wayne Manor where everyone was in quiet awe of the place. The main vestibule was rather small but no less ornate that the rest of the manor. The walls were painstakingly etched and carved with intricate designs then painted with different shades of gold. They were also emblazoned with several sconces which were also exquisite and looked like they were made out of a mix of glass and gold.

The chandelier above the team wasn't lit but it was magnificent. Eames, being the expert thief he was, quickly appraised it and judged the chandelier to be worth several millions. He wished Ariadne was with them. She would have been able to tell them more about the manor and how it was built.

The team followed Alfred up the main stairwell which split halfway up, and veered right. After several confusing turns, he then showed everyone to different rooms so they could rest and freshen up. Alfred was careful to put everyone in the same hall so they could be close together. Hunting for unexpected guests was not how he wanted to spend his already very late night.

"Alright then," Alfred instructed, "I'll have dinner ready in about an hour. It's important you follow my directions exactly. It's very easy to get lost in here and if you do, I won't be able to search for you until morning. Now – when you leave your rooms, you won't go the way we just came up. You'll make a left and go straight; go about 15 doors down and make a right. After that, you'll see a large portrait of Thomas Wayne. When you see that, you'll know you're going in the right direction. Go past the portrait and keep walking. You'll see a bronze spiral staircase on your right, but _do not_ take that staircase up or down. You'll get hopelessly lost if you do. At that point make a left and keep going until you see a stone banister on your left. If you look over it, you'll be able to see the Grand Hall. It has a piano in it. Go down the stairs leading to the grand hall. Once you get there, go through the left archway. The kitchens will be straight down the hall on the right. At that point, all you'll have to do is follow the smell. Any questions?"

Alfred looked around at everyone. Two of them looked confused and the beautiful young woman with them had a slightly glazed look in her eyes. Nobody spoke up though, so he took that as a sign that they understood him perfectly.

"Excellent," he said, beaming at everyone. "I'm off then. Ted – would you care to join me?"

"Yeah, sure," Ted said. "See you guys at dinner!"

Everyone moved towards their designated rooms until a faint swooshing noise was heard coming from one of the rooms. They stopped and listened for a moment before walking again. The second time it happened, everyone froze and looked at one another. Ivanov, unperturbed by the strange noises, walked into his room and loudly closed the door.

Everyone else followed suit and 45 minutes later Ivanov, Arthur, Eames, and Nadira met outside their rooms once again. They followed Alfred's instructions and managed to find their way to the kitchen in a little over ten minutes.

"Ah, right on time," Alfred said, looking up from pantry he was rummaging around in. "Ted, show them where the plates are, will you?"

The team helped Alfred set up for their late dinner and sat down to burgers with a salad.

"This is good stuff," Ted commented, "but I've never known you make a casual meal."

"I'll have you know, I can do casual very well," Alfred defended himself. "And it's practically the middle of the night – I wasn't about to prepare a whole blasted feast. Doesn't matter how much I like you."

Ted laughed at that. Alfred's blunt honesty was one of the things Ted liked best about the man. "Thanks for taking us in. You don't know it, but you saved us. We were on the run there for awhile."

Eames took the opportunity to cut in. "So, tell us again, how do you two know each other?"

"It's a long story," Ted said.

"We've got time," Eames replied.

"Well," Ted began, "Our fathers worked for the IBA long before we did. I'm sure you all know it was founded in 1920, after WWI. The IBA was created to protect the international community from what we would perceive today to be terrorist attacks. Back in the twenties and thirties, it wasn't called the International Bureau of Antiterrorism. It was called the Bureau of Justice."

"Sounds like a superhero group," Nadira murmured.

"We needed a more effective way to retrieve information from our enemies," Ted continued. "Rifling though papers in the hopes of finding just a morsel of intel wasn't working. It was getting too risky and our field agents were being burned right and left."

Alfred picked up where Ted left off. "So, in 1931, a psychologist by the name of Edward Morin found a way to do just that very thing. He, along with a team of psychologists and scientists, found a way to enter the subconscious and search through it. His colleague, a chemist by the name of David Perkins, created Somnacin, which as we all know is what we use to enter dreams. He and David are the pioneers of modern day extraction."

"So, where do you all come in," Eames asked, between bites of salad.

"Our fathers were both recruited in 1943, towards the end of WWII," Alfred said. "My dad was a linguist for MI6 and Ted's dad was an investigator for the Office of Strategic Services, also known as the OSS."

"I've never heard of that agency," Eames cut in.

"I'm not surprised," Alfred replied. "You're far too young to have knowledge of it. The Americans dissolved the OSS in 1945. The agency in its place now is the CIA. Getting back to the story, neither of our fathers were soldiers, but they were used for military operations anyway. They reported to the Bureau headquarters in Prague and were trained in the art of extraction. My dad was sent to Germany to try and pick out some information on Adolf Hitler. Nobody - him included - thought he would even get close enough to do it. But, he was at the pub one day when he met a woman named Traudl Junge. They began talking and hit it off. That's the way my dad told the story."

"Did they end up getting together," Eames asked with a cheeky grin. "Was she pretty?"

"Well," Alfred paused a moment struggling to find the right words. "I saw a photo of her once. She wasn't ghastly looking. Just a bit… homely."

Ted scoffed at Alfred's description. "Homely? Were we looking at the same picture? That girl could turn a man to stone."

"Be quiet, Ted," Alfred said, looking a bit pink in the face. "So, they became friends. And about a month after they met, he found out that she was one of Hitler's personal secretaries. I'm not sure how he found out since he said she could never talk about work, but my guess is that she slipped one day and either told him or let information loose that gave him enough clues about her job to figure it all out. My father liked her well enough, but he had to tell his commanding officer about her. The extraction was set up and that's when our dads got stuck together again. He flew into France with some other colleagues of ours. He then had to sneak into Berlin and after he did, their extraction team went to work. They entered her subconscious and managed to extract the location of the Wolf's Lair."

Alfred paused to take a bite of food as the rest of the team voiced their amazement.

"They found Hitler's headquarters, but were too late," Ted explained. "Hitler and his wife Eva were already dead. His officers fled the scene and a lot of paperwork was destroyed."

"That's very interesting," Eames replied, genuine admiration in his voice. "But, that was what your fathers did. What do you all have to do with any of this?"

Before either Alfred or Ted could elaborate, Ivanov spoke. "Wick Industries is not just an energy empire. It's also a tech company. We supplied many companies and government agencies with the latest technology. Two of our major clients were the IBA and Wayne Enterprises. Ted is a senior agent of the IBA and worked in the same department as Alfred, who, as Ted said earlier, was a former agent of the IBA in the subconscious security sector. I was hired in 2009 as a liaison between the two. I gained control of Wick Industries in 2011 but stayed on as the official liaison. The main headquarters is in Prague and is headed up by a man named Brett Ruger. You should probably know that Cobb was also a part of the IBA."

Eames and Arthur looked at Alfred for confirmation.

"He's right," Alfred replied. "Dominic Cobb was an agent for the IBA. I also trained him. He was a dream analyst in the Subconscious Security sector. He started out as an architect, building mazes for the soldiers and agents to train in, and was promoted from there. But he went AWOL after his wife died. Dominic broke about 14 international laws, the first two being he stole a PASIV and he trained a civilian. He performed unauthorized extractions and as a result, Mallorie Cobb lost her grip on reality and died. After he went AWOL, Cobb used his extraction skills illegally, as I'm sure you're well aware. That's part of how he got tangled up with COBAL Engineering."

"Now, we have something very serious to talk about." Ivanov looked around the table at the remainder of his team. "You have failed your mission and two of your teammates are in the masked man's custody. Daggett is dead, so that path is also closed to us. Through Yusuf and Ariadne, he has access to a lot of ammunition. My question is: do we try to save them anyway, knowing that doing so will be certain death? Or do we cut our losses and try to figure a way out of here?"

Everyone at the table looked at Ivanov as if he had grown an extra head.

"'Cut our losses,'" Nadira echoed sharply. "Are you suggesting that we just leave them behind?"

"We could," Ivanov said, completely at ease with the growing tension in the room. "The city will be annihilated soon. We could just escape Gotham. It would make sense, don't you think?"

"What you're suggesting doesn't make sense," Eames retorted, temper building quickly. "We cannot leave those two behind. They're part of our team." He narrowed his eyes at Ivanov. "I think you better just watch what you say. You're on dangerous ground. I don't care if that man is blowing up the city tomorrow - we are going to rescue them, with or without you. Honestly, if it wasn't for your little screw up with that bomb, none of us would be in this mess. We don't leave our own behind."

Ivanov smiled at everyone widely. He looked very satisfied suddenly as he nodded at Ted.

"Do you know what the IBA prides itself on more than anything?" Ted asked, cutting in on Eames. He was met with stony silence before he continued to speak. "_Teamwork_. They do their best to complete a mission and in order to do that, group work is necessary. In fact, they require it. No man is alone in the IBA."

"What's your point," Nadira asked.

"My point," Ted said, "is that you are in a vulnerable position right now. You've lost part of your team. You're currently wanted and running from the ruling authority in this city with no way out. I wanted to know whether you would keep your values. Too many people revert to their baser selves when anarchy reigns. That was what the Joker wanted. In a way, that's what Bane wants too; he's just trying to dress it up as something other than pure chaos. People stop relying on reason and their humanity and begin to act like animals. The IBA wants to know that during a time of extreme duress, you will continue your mission, and not leave your people behind."

"We didn't even finish the mission," Eames said. "We failed."

"Minor setback. You haven't failed until that bomb detonates and everyone is dead. In the meantime, Ivanov and I need help," Ted answered. "Most of his men were killed recently and I have no way of contacting Ruger for help. We're on our own. What do you say?"

Eames, Arthur and Nadira looked at each other a moment before Eames said anything. "If it'll help to get Ariadne and Yusuf back and if we can somehow disarm that bomb, then yes – but _only _for that purpose."

"A one-time deal with temporary agents," Ivanov mused with a smile. "I can work with that. You have my sincere gratitude."

Arthur, who had been completely silent since their escape from the sewers, spoke. "We're officially your men now, Ivanov. I know you know about extraction, but have you ever done it before?" Ivanov shook his head no.

"We need to train you," Arthur replied bluntly.

"Why," Ivanov asked. "I'm the one who's calling the shots."

Eames just laughed at that. "No, no, you don't understand. In _our _world, the one calling the shots is the first one in. Think of ancient kings during a war. They were always the first into battle, leading the way for their men. You have to come with us. In order for us to get anywhere near Yusuf and Ariadne, we have to take a different approach. We have to do another extraction. Don't worry though – Talia didn't make us. She was still sedated when we were caught. We have to do it again though. It's the only way."

Ivanov sat silently, seriously considering what Eames was saying. "I'll do it," he replied after a moment.

"Ted, we need another PASIV. What can we do about that," Eames asked.

"I think I might have some supplies," Alfred offered.

Eames nodded at Alfred. "Let's get started then. We don't have a lot of time."


	12. Insight

Ch. 11

_**Wayne Manor, three days later**_

"That's it," Eames said. "Arthur is coming out of that room – whether he wants to or not."

"You have to give him some time," Nadira said, trying to keep him calm. "Give him time to come around."

"Oh he'll come around. I'm going in there and I'm going to bring him around." Eames stopped pacing long enough to look at her. "Three days, Nadira. It's been _three bloody days_ \- how long are we going to leave him in there? How long do Ariadne and Yusuf have to wait before we can get them back? We were supposed to start training Ivanov two days ago. Actually no - _he _was supposed to start training Ivanov two days ago. That's 48 whole hours wasted."

Nadira looked down the hall towards Arthur's room. "I'm worried about Yusuf and Ariadne too, but I feel for him."

"Well, feelings aren't going to help us right now," Eames responded, not meaning to sound unkind. "Nadira, let me handle him. You go and rest."

She nodded and disappeared into her bedroom.

Eames marched up to Arthur's door. He banged on it a few times and reached down to twist the doorknob.

"Alright, this has gone on long -," he stopped in his tracks suddenly.

He had only planned to rattle it loudly until Arthur came to the door, but the doorknob turned, so Eames pushed in on the door and let it swing slowly open.

Something wasn't right. The door was unlocked for one thing. Arthur never left his door unlocked, whether he was in the room or not. He had a key he always kept on him for the room.

The room itself was a complete disaster. There were things were strewn everywhere. The chairs that were part of the ornate wooden table set in the corner of the room were overturned and the papers that sat on the table were also on the floor. Eames noticed a stale, musty odor that was heavy in the air.

"Hello," Eames called out, walking further into the room. "Arthur?"

The mattress for the large platform bed was half off its platform with the sheets lying on the floor beside it. The pillows were nowhere to be seen. Eames turned to his left and saw that the dresser mirror had been broken and had blood in the cracks.

"Arthur? Where are you," Eames called out again, quickly scanning the room.

He stayed near the walls and moved towards the large walk-in closet. He peeked inside. There was nothing but Arthur's clothes occupying the space. Eames stepped back out and slowly made his way towards the bathroom. Arthur was sitting on the floor, near the stand-up shower. Eames rushed over to him.

He was bedraggled and haggard looking. He was wearing the same clothing from the night they were captured, except they were no longer spotless. Everything was now crumpled and dirty.

Eames assumed that Arthur hadn't showered any time in the last few days. His hair was greasy and his normally clean shaven face was covered in the beginnings of a beard. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked gaunt from lack of food. Arthur didn't react to Eames entering the bathroom.

He looked down and saw that Arthur had smashed the mirror in with his right hand. Eames grabbed his hand and checked it for signs of infection. He was surprised when he didn't find any. His hand was covered in large cuts in various stages of healing and dried blood, but no swelling, heat, or pus.

"Arthur, what are you doing," Eames asked, still examining his hand. He also noticed a picture of the whole team resting on the floor next to him.

Eames remembered the night that picture was taken. The team was in a restaurant in Tangier the night before their flight to Gotham. It was Ariadne who wanted a picture of everyone. None of the other team members – except maybe Nadira – wanted to do it, but they posed for a picture for her. Ariadne asked a stranger to take a quick photo of them using her camera.

It was a strange memory for Eames. He never socialized with other associates. And he wasn't sure if they were even allowed to do things like take pictures – it could have compromised their safety. He couldn't recall ever having fun on the job, but that night _was_ fun. He genuinely enjoyed himself.

Eames noticed that there were blood streaks where Ariadne's smiling face saw supposed to be. Almost like someone had been stroking that spot over and over again with a bloody finger. Arthur twisted his wrist around until Eames released his hand.

"How did you get in here? Get out," Arthur said. His voice was low and sounded rough from disuse.

"I'm here to get you out of this pigsty you've made for yourself," Eames replied, rolling up his sleeves. He knew he was going to have a fight on his hands. "We've got work to do."

Eames grabbed the picture off the floor and shoved it into his pocket. He then started the shower up and let it get warm.

"Just go away," Arthur replied monotonously. "The job is done. We failed. There's nothing else to do but wait for that bomb to go off."

"The first thing we are going to do," Eames said, ignoring Arthur, "is get you out of those clothes. You are going to take a shower. You smell awful."

Eames reached down and hoisted Arthur up from under his armpits. Arthur began to fight back, twisting his body and flailing his arms.

"I thought I told you to get lost," Arthur said. "Hey – get your hands off of me!"

"Stop fighting me Arthur." Eames struggled to get Arthur out of his dirty clothes. "You can't just stay in here until the bomb detonates!"

"Yes I can – I said get OFF," Arthur roared in response. Eames gave up trying to pull his clothing off of his lean frame and just shoved him into the shower.

"Not until you snap out of this," Eames yelled back, struggling to keep him still.

Arthur was stronger than he looked. That was surprising considering that he probably had eaten little to nothing in the three days he had holed himself up in his room.

"Quitting is not an option. There are too many people counting on us."

"I can't do this – I tried. I'm through – now let me out of here and I won't shoot you."

"No chance of that," Eames answered back, panting from trying to hold down a thrashing Arthur. "We have a job to finish."

Arthur was getting tired and began to feel like he couldn't breathe.

"Stop it – I can't do this – get off! We failed, there's nothing more we can do – we failed – I failed – I LET THEM DOWN – BOTH ARIADNE AND YUSUF ARE GONE - I LET THEM DOWN – IF ONLY SHE HAD COME TO ME – IF ONLY I HAD LISTENED TO HER – I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN - GOTHAM'S DONE – I FAILED -"

"YEAH, IT'S ALL ABOUT YOU ISN'T IT," Eames yelled back, fed up with Arthur's pity party. "_WE _WERE A _TEAM_ BUT NO, _YOU_ DESTROYED EVERYTHING! THAT'S ALL I'VE HEARD NOW – I, I, I, _YOU, YOU, __**YOU**_!"

Arthur's face twisted in anger. "YOU SHUT UP AND GET OUT – I DON'T NEED YOUR BS! _I'M _THE ONE WHO HAD TO CARRY EVERYONE – THAT'S WHY THE MISSION WENT WRONG -,"

"- _MY GOD_, DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF?! _YOU_ HAD TO CARRY EVERYONE? YEAH – ONLY BECAUSE YOU WOULDN'T LET ANYONE ELSE HELP! YOU WERE _TOO BUSY _TRYING TO MEASURE UP TO COBB – EVEN ARIADNE COULDN'T COME TO YOU, THAT'S WHY SHE DID WHAT SHE DID _-"_

Eames was cut off as Arthur's fist met his face.

"You're the last person I'm gonna take a lecture from. And don't you dare bring her up to me," Arthur said with a snarl.

He spat blood then stared at Arthur in shock for a moment before he began to see red. "You just won't listen, will you…?"

Eames then grabbed Arthur by his hair and dragged him out of the shower. "YOU DON'T WANT ME TO TALK ABOUT HER - IS THAT A SORE SUBJECT FOR YOU," he asked sarcastically as he sank a fist into Arthur's stomach.

"SCREW YOU," Arthur responded, doubled over in pain. He made himself straighten back up. Eames was normally very mellow - Arthur forgot how much of a punch the burly man could pack.

He was unsteady on his feet but swung at Eames again. Eames easily avoided his next blow. Arthur was a decent fighter, but he was weak from no food or sleep. His anger made him slow.

"VERY INTELLIGENT RESPONSE, POINT MAN! I'M _SURE_ SHE'LL BE IMPRESSED."

Arthur charged at Eames and knocked him to the ground. He climbed on top of Eames and began pummeling him with his fists. Eames took several hard punches to the face before quickly rolling over and punching Arthur back.

"Enough," Eames said, pinning Arthur, who was still struggling. He grabbed Arthur by the shirt collar with both hands and shook him. "THAT'S ENOUGH - STOP!"

Arthur stopped fighting and just looked at Eames.

"Look at us," Eames said breathlessly. "Look at us. We are supposed to be finding a way to rescue our teammates and instead, we are fist fighting in Wayne Manor. What happened, Arthur?"

The rage left Arthur's eyes, replaced by a deep sadness. "I don't know."

Eames climbed off of Arthur and the two men sat on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, quiet but still out of breath.

"I don't understand what happened. I just… wanted to be good enough. I had to get everything right. I'm the point man. And the extractor. No room for mistakes. I have to be perfect."

"No you don't," Eames said quietly. "That's what the rest of us are for, did you forget?"

Arthur glanced at Eames. "Yeah. I guess I did. But, I know I'm the reason the mission failed. I told Ariadne she could come to me if she needed anything. Then I… I stayed on her and pushed her. I put her under too much pressure."

"But, she doesn't hate you. None of us do."

Arthur looked up at the ceiling and swallowed hard. "I got caught up in being right. Being the best. I compromised the team. And Ariadne…"

He trailed off, lost in his own thoughts again. Eames pulled the picture out of his pocket and looked down at it, studying the happy group of people.

Arthur looked over to see what Eames was looking at. His face flushed red when he realized what Eames was holding and tried to snatch the photo out of his hand.

Eames flicked his wrist and kept the photo out of reach. Arthur looked back up at the ceiling.

"Do you like her," Eames asked after several long seconds of silence.

"Sure I do. She's a nice girl," Arthur answered, neatly sidestepping the question. "Everyone likes her."

"Are you in love with her?"

Arthur went very still at the question. "Don't be ridiculous," he replied in a low, clipped tone. "We're nothing but associates. There is nothing to us outside of a work relationship."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Eames responded. "But you can't tell me that you haven't entertained thoughts of being with her…?"

"Of course not," Arthur said tightly. "She's just a girl."

He swallowed hard and tried to keep his hands from balling up. This was not a subject he wanted to discuss.

"I don't believe you," Eames said bluntly. "I'm looking at this photo – you've practically worn a hole in her face. I've seen you watching her, following her around. Plus, she's a grown woman – she's only a few years younger than you are. How long are you going to run from this?"

Arthur looked very tired all of a sudden. He blew out a sharp breath. "… I don't know, Eames. I don't know. We're completely different. Look at us."

Eames nodded in agreement. Ariadne looked like a university student while Arthur resembled an IRS agent most of the time.

"True," he agreed. "But they say opposites attract. What do you like about her?"

"I don't know." Arthur shrugged his shoulders in a very un-Arthur like manner. "I mean, she's pretty…"

"Now Arthur, I know your desires are more complex than just a pretty face and a nice body," Eames chided. "You can find that anywhere. No… she has something different. What is it?"

For once, Arthur allowed himself to think about Ariadne without holding back.

"She's a free spirit," he said after a moment. "She's kind. Compassionate. Fun. Smart. Beautiful. Interesting. No, she's more than that – she's captivating, _passionate_… She's… everything I want to be."

"Do you have _anything_ in common with her?"

"I don't know," Arthur replied after thinking about it. "I spent a lot of time with her, but I feel like I don't know her at all. But I want to. I want to be around her and learn who she is."

"_Are you in love with her_?"

"No? Yes? I – I don't know. I've given it a lot of thought, but you know how it is. I mean, look at Cobb and Mal. Look how they ended up. There's no room for romance in our line of work. That's just how it is."

"Does she love you?"

"I don't even know if she _likes_ me."

"Well, one step at a time, lad. You can think about that when the time comes. At least you have an idea of where you stand."

Eames and Arthur both got up off of the floor.

"I need to eat something – then we can start again," Arthur said. "The day we tried to get her out, she was trying to tell me something."

Eames waited for an explanation.

"I think I know why he has her. It didn't connect until much later but he took Yusuf as well. Bane's men were reaching for me but were ordered to take him instead." Arthur looked at Eames. "He took our chemist. I think he's gonna make them teach him extraction."

"I thought so as well," Eames said. "She paid one of Bane's men to man the PASIV without knowing who he was. Ariadne would've had to at least partially explain extraction. I'll bet the man took the money and reported back to Bane."

"It's the only explanation I can think of," Arthur agreed, nodding his head. "The man actually got inside Tate's head to take us out one at a time like he had been trained to do it."

Eames stared pensively at the floor. "I wonder… if we're all supposed to die from the bomb, Bane included, what would he need to know how to do extraction for?"

Arthur looked over at him sharply. "I don't know. But we have to save Ariadne and Yusuf – and somehow stop that bomb."

"I agree," Eames said. "But, maybe you should take a shower first. Clean yourself up a bit. You stink."

"Yeah, yeah...," Arthur turned to gather up supplies for a shower and paused. "By the way - you ever tell anyone we had this conversation, I'll kill you."

"What conversation?" Eames gave a cheeky smile before leaving the bathroom.

* * *

He could smell burning rubber and gasoline. He could almost feel the heat from a fire.

Ivanov walked down the dark alley hearing the sounds of chaos all around him. He reached the end of the alley and was confirmed in what he saw. In the street in front of the dirty alley he stood in was a burning car. Ivanov stood further back in the shadows and surveyed the area.

Many of the buildings and stores in the vicinity looked abandoned. They either had boarded up windows or the glass panes were completely blown out. Graffiti decorated every brick surface available and trash accompanied it on the streets. The area looked like it had been razed to the ground by an army. There was no one on the streets, but Ivanov guessed that they were probably nearby.

The sound of another explosion convinced him to move from his current hiding spot.

The weather was cool and slightly drizzly as Ivanov walked down the street. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Ivanov looked upwards at the sky, which was very cloudy - almost ominous, if he had to put a word to it. He zipped up his jacket and tightened his grip on the backpack he had and began to walk.

He walked for what seemed like hours, not a soul in sight. He stopped to regroup. He was getting tired and the sky darkened a bit. Ivanov wasn't a betting man but he was willing to say that being outside after dark was probably a very bad idea. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, undecided as to where to go or what to do. His thoughts came to a standstill as he heard the faintest strains of sound that were other than destructive.

He followed the sound around a building corner and for a few blocks before he came across a rusty trapdoor next to an abandoned casino. Ivanov hesitated slightly before opening one of the two doors and stepping gingerly through the opening. The passage he stood in was very dark and damp with very little light.

He began to walk, still following the sound that had gotten louder since his descent. He gave up trying to see and just felt his way through the dark and listened for the sound that had become like a beacon to him.

After groping the walls and stumbling through the dark for several minutes, Ivanov's eyes registered a beam of light and under it was a narrow wooden staircase. By this time the sound was much louder although he still had trouble registering exactly what it was. He climbed the rickety staircase and pushed open the thick steel door in front of him.

Ivanov was enveloped by the sound of warm, melodious music playing. He recognized the music to be from Erik Satie. He did not play any instruments but he loved classical music. There was an old man in a tattered tuxedo playing an equally worn down piano. Ivanov had a hard time believing that such a rich sound could come from a piano that was so obviously in need of repairs.

The whole scene defied logic in his mind. He had come through burning chaos to find himself in a large underground room with high ceilings with strong beams of sunlight streaming in. The room, which looked like a very large study, had vibrantly green vines on all four walls.

There were bookcases everywhere with every book a person could imagine. Ivanov was tempted to sit on one of the many fluffy couches scattered around the room but he didn't move for fear of scaring the old man. The music suddenly stopped and Ivanov's eyes darted to the man on the piano.

He felt relief flood through him when the man began to play again. This time, the music was from Debussy; Arabesque, if Ivanov didn't know any better. He looked around him in amazement. Outside the world was nothing but death. He didn't see anyone but Ivanov didn't think he would find any empathy from the projections. But in this room, there was nothing but warmth and life. He felt as though he could just stay there forever.

He stood and watched the man play until the song was finished. The man then got up and walked through a small side door. Ivanov frowned and went over to the piano bench where he saw a five dollar bill sitting. Figuring the man must have left it behind, Ivanov left his newly found haven to follow the man. He found himself back outside the dilapidated casino in record time. He looked around and saw the old man tottering down the street, oblivious to the destruction around him.

Ivanov began to run to catch up with him but was stopped by a group of young men. These men had weapons practically dripping off of them and looked as if they hadn't showered in a year. He suddenly changed his mind about wanting contact with other people and began to sprint away from the men.

He ran down a side street and didn't stop running. After several minutes of running at breakneck speed, Ivanov felt safe to stop. He was out of breath and his legs and chest burned. To his amazement, just up ahead of him was the old man walking his way. He ignored his body's cry for rest and began to walk towards the man so he could try and return his money.

Suddenly, he felt his arms being restrained. He looked up and realized the same thugs that were chasing him before had found him again. The two that held his arms threw him against a wall while their leader, a tall man with matted brown hair and a gold tooth, came up and delivered a vicious punch aided by brass knuckles to the side that had Ivanov desperately gasping for air.

The agonizing pain that radiated from his side told Ivanov that a rib might have been broken. Maybe two. Another body was also thrown against the wall. He looked up to see Eames next to him, also restrained and looking like he had taken a few punches himself. The man proceeded to rip Ivanov's backpack off and snatch the five dollar bill out of his hand. He reached in the bag and grabbed 3 apples and a twenty dollar bill, tossing the empty bag back in his face.

Ivanov watched in utter amazement as the man walked up to the old musician and gave him back his five and two out of three apples. He put his hand on the old man's back and spoke quietly to him. The old man took what was given to him and continued to walk. The younger man walked back to Ivanov and eyed him for what seemed like an eternity after stuffing the twenty in his own pocket and taking a bite of apple.

Ivanov finally found the courage to speak. "You some kind of Robin Hood wannabe?"

The man casually shrugged at him and responded with a soft voice that contradicted his rough exterior.

"'You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.'" He then wagged his index finger at Ivanov. "And we ain't criminals, we're _survivors, _the lot of us. There's a difference. But, you know what they say about assumptions…"

The leader made a circular gesture with his hand and walked away from them, still eating the apple.

The men jumped on both Ivanov and Eames. He saw the glint of a blade before feeling a sharp, agonizing, burning sensation in his chest. Everything went dark after that.

Ivanov opened his eyes and saw Arthur standing over top of him.

"You still had three minutes," he said, frowning as he looked over his notes.

"He survived longer than I thought he would,"Eames said from the other chair. "Our premature death wasn't quite as gory as it could've been." He unhooked himself from the PASIV then stood up and addressed Ivanov. "We'll do this again after lunch. This time, you'll have to try and actually extract something and stay alive long enough to do it." With that being said, Eames walked out of the room to find himself something to eat.

"Arthur, wasn't the point of this for Eames to actually be with me," Ivanov asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we went under and Eames just vanished."

Arthur chuckled. "Everyone has their own way of training. Our old extractor Cobb like to show a person what to do. He'd guide you through the dream and lecture you at the same time. Eames is more… _hands on._ Sink or swim. It's not a method I use to train very often but it's effective. You'll get the hang of it."

Arthur left the room leaving Ivanov to his own thoughts. _'This time you'll have to try and actually extract something and stay alive long enough to do it.'_

Ivanov wanted to let on that he had just learned more about Eames in two minutes than he did the entire six months they've worked together. The man was cultured and educated. He liked poetry. Kahlil Gibran in particular, it seemed. He loved music and Ivanov guessed that he probably either played an instrument or would have liked to have played an instrument. Ivanov wasn't sure where the old man fit in but he seemed like a father figure of sorts.

The forger lived rough but apparently he operated under a strict set of ethics.

'_How cliché,'_ Ivanov scoffed inwardly. _'A thief with a heart of gold.'_

But it was the truth. Eames' job and circumstances didn't allow for kindness. But in his short time spent in Eames' mind, Ivanov found that that particular trait still lived deep in him. You just had to dig through all the muck to see it. This extraction was more successful than what Eames or Arthur could ever guess. Ivanov was sure he had caught a glimpse of the man's soul.

Of course, he was also sure that telling anyone what he saw would be a good way to get shot. Eames had a reputation to keep up, after all.


End file.
